


Charcoal Tears

by Placebo_gazebo



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Blood, Death, Drugs, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Gore, Sexual Assault, Sexual Content, Underage Drinking, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-02-14 09:43:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 34
Words: 73,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13005051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Placebo_gazebo/pseuds/Placebo_gazebo
Summary: Jackie was orphaned at a young age and forced to live with an abusive uncle for 5 years before being shuffled around the foster system of New York. One fateful day her social worker discovers a relative willing to take Jackie in, a relative in Derry Maine. Will this be a good thing? Bad? Maybe both? IT's going to be the adventure of a lifetime, making friends, enemies, and some who are a little of both along the way.





	1. Baptized in Blood

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is, uh, it's long. I debated having Jackie's story told in flashbacks from after she arrives in Derry but decided to get it all out of the way at once. Sorry, no 'It' characters until chapter 4! There will be a lot of Bowers gang in this, some smutty stuff (some harassing by the bowers gang >_>), some violence/ gore, and some abuse of Jackie by her uncle (but only in the first chapter), so be forewarned. The bowers gang are more or less the age of their actors in this, but the losers are all still the same age. It's going to be a blend of the book and movie. Hope you enjoy.

Sometimes, on cool summer evenings, with sounds of the New York city nightlife floating around her, when the air had ceased baking her inside her skin and breezes would caress the bruises on her face, Jackie's mind would quiet. No thoughts of dead parents. No thoughts of Uncle Raymond or his wandering hands and brutal fists. Fiery, violent images, sounds of crackling flesh, smells of human skin being cooked; on those loud summer nights they all disappeared. Sitting on the apartment's fire escape during those times, all that existed was the present. If it wasn't in front of Jackie it didn't exist. People yelling in the alley below, cars honking, sirens in the distance: these would buzz in her ears, helping to dull her mind. The metal grate, cold and hard, and the luminescence of the city night kept Jackie in the now. Brief as they were, these times were precious to her. Necessary, even. But she was not often afforded these moments. Hers was an existence outlined by misery. If there was happiness, the universe only saw fit that it be brief.

Jackie saw Raymond stumbling down the alley as she sat in the open window that led to the fire escape, absently wondering how, no matter his level of intoxication, he could always find his way home. After he disappeared inside she rushed in, her feet falling lightly across the floor, making her way back to her room from the hallway window sill, carefully shutting the door behind her. She waited for his footsteps in the hall. Jackie's body tensed as Raymond fought the lock with his key, demanding it give in and let him through. She waited to see if he'd pass out on the couch, or maybe the floor, depending how pickled he was, or if he would come to her room and make her 'tuck him into bed,' as he put it. Apparently his drunkenness wasn't potent enough to pull him to the couch. Instead the floorboards outside her room creaked as his heavy feet planted down on them, each thud a warning. Jackie lay her head across the pillow, face towards the wall, closing her eyes and keeping her breath shallow.

The door moaned when Raymond leaned against it, as if it too dreaded his presence. He swung it inward, the wood of the door scraping against the floor. "Jackie?" His years of smoking gave his voice a rough, frog like quality. She ignored the croak, trying to keep up her charade of slumber. "Jackie!" He became louder, demanding acknowledgement.

Sitting up she turned to face her uncle. What hair remained on his balding head was dreadfully disheveled. His gut hung over his jeans as if trying to escape. The reek of booze practically curled off him at all times; many of his shirts were irreversibly stained with the stuff. Crooked, yellowing teeth populated his bloated gums. He was ugly in every sense of the word. His features disgusted Jackie as she regarded him, but Raymond's stubble was what she loathed most. Every aspect of it sent revulsion bubbling up inside her: the sound it made when his nails pulled across the coarse hairs, the way it contrasted with his large, sunken eyes. The way it prickled her soft skin as it grazed across it. Each time she beheld her uncle she felt sick. All details of him: who he was, how he looked, was detested by every last ounce of her.

Again, his gruff voice sounded out. "You finish all your chores?"

"Yes Uncle Raymond."

"For shit's sake, speak up girlie, I can't hear a damn word you're sayin'."

Jackie raised her voice this time, making sure it stayed expressionless. She didn't want to give him any reason to think she'd 'caught an attitude', as he put it. "Yes Uncle Raymond."

He nodded, apparently satisfied. Yet he remained in the door frame. Jackie tried her best to ignore the way his eyes ran over her body, still mostly hidden by the covers. Finally he said, "Come tuck your uncle into bed."

Clenching her jaw, Jackie stood. Her oversized t-shirt and baggy pajama shorts rustling were the only sound aside from the thrum of the city beyond the apartment's walls. Raymond barely moved enough for her to pass by him and she had to choke back bitter bile as his protruding stomach brushed against her. Sometimes, so long as she knew she wouldn't be caught, Jackie would run to the refrigerator after he'd touched her, stuffing and handful of ice onto her skin to freeze away the taint of his fingers.

He followed closely behind down the hall, close enough to feel his stinking breath on the back of her neck. When they reached his room she turned to face him. After living with Raymond for 3 years, Jackie had learned that when he asked her to tuck him in, what he meant was for her to undress him down to his underwear, pull the covers up to his chin after he'd lain down, and kiss his revolting, sweaty, _grimy_ cheek. Failure to do any of these things resulted in beatings. She now completed these rituals in quick succession as Raymond tried to keep his balance. Pulling the sheets up to his chin, Jackie weighed her odds of escaping without the nauseating kiss. Her question was answered as Raymond pulled her down to him, planting a sloppy peck across her cheek and then immediately falling back to the pillow, passed out. Jackie escaped to the kitchen, tears brimming, and grabbed a handful of ice from the freezer. She pressed it into her face until it was numb. In her own bed, she began using a corner of her sheets to roughly wipe the place his grotesque lips had touched her. It took a while for her to feel she'd truly scrubbed the film off. That was what her uncle's filthy skin felt like it had: a film. Any amount left to sit on her skin would, Jackie was certain, drive her insane or poison her. After feeling her cheek had been cleansed, she laid her head down gingerly, praying this sleep would be restful and without nightmares.

Not long after the summer of '81, Jackie had gotten her first period. She'd woken up to blood smeared across her inner thighs, shorts, and much of the sheets. Horrified, she'd run to Raymond, exclaiming that she was dying and needed to go to the hospital. After he'd smacked her around a bit for being so hysterical and yelling at him first thing in the goddamn morning, he'd told her she wasn't dying, it just meant she was a woman now. He told her to go to the nurse at school that day and she'd explain more about it and help her take care of it. He also informed her that she'd need to wash the blood out of the sheets and her clothes before she went or he'd tan her hide, probably throw in a few cigarette burns for good measure. Walking to school that day, she hadn't been able to forget the strange glint in her uncle's eye as he'd said, 'means you're a woman now'. Over the next few days it began to dawn on her 11 year old mind in some vague way that 'being a woman' had broken down a barrier for her uncle, a barrier that had been shielding her until now. His groping became more frequent, somehow more purposeful, and that thought threatened to burn away her sanity if dwelt on too long. Young as she was, Jackie knew something unspeakable was going to happen if things kept on like this. Perhaps it was just a child's intuition, which could be so much more sharp and perceptive than adults realized. Perhaps Jackie just knew how to read her uncle.

On the last day of her cycle, as she'd walked home from school, a leather jacket on display in a shop window caught her eye. Of course it was much too large for her, but something about it drew her in. It looked so very much like the kinds of jackets the members of her favorite bands wore.

One fine spring day, school nearly empty, Jackie had found a tape player with headphones left unattended, a curious turtle sticker stuck to the side. That she'd torn off and thrown away, stickers were baby stuff. But the rest was an incredibly lucky find. The tape inside contained the music of bands who'd later become rock and roll and metal legends. Quickly gaining a taste for the genre, she'd spent many afternoons and evenings by the radio, waiting to record more rock music onto a cassette tape. She could only do this when her uncle wasn't around, he hated her music, a hard learned discovery. He'd arrived home to find Jackie intently listening to Turn up the Night by Black Sabbath and started in on a thorough beating, topped off with a few cigarette burns to her upper arm. This wasn't enough to stop her; it only made her more careful. The cassettes she used to capture her favorite songs from the radio were stolen, like the Walkman itself. She had no money to afford such things. Witchfinder General, Van Halen, Motor Head, Scorpions, AC/DC, Iron Maiden, Kiss, Mercyful Fate, all these had a sound she loved. Something about metal and rock made her feel alive, even a little powerful. A sense of rebellion had begun to stir in her as she grew closer to this music; a hope for freedom. There was nothing she loved more than the blare of the electric guitar. Eddie Van Halen was Jackie's favorite guitarist. The name itself sounded powerful. Eddie Van Halen. She'd mutter his name under her breath like a mantra when she felt particularly small and vulnerable.

 _I bet Eddie Van Halen would wear a jacket like this_ , she thought to herself. Jackie had stolen quite a lot before, small things mostly: candy, toys, bandaids, cheap jewelry, some albums on cassettes, anything that could fit in her pocket. She was quite the talented thief too, no one had caught her yet. But this leather jacket in the window seemed an impossible feat. Despite this, driven by an unfathomable urge, she knew she had to have that jacket. Walking into the store a chill crept over her along with a feeling of... What? What was it? A feeling of... change. That was the only word that would come to mind. Brushing this aside she pretended to look thoughtfully around, eyebrows furrowed. The shop clerk examined her suspiciously for a minute, but after flashing him an innocent smile he looked back down to the magazine he'd been reading. Not twenty seconds later a girl stormed in, shouting something to the clerk about 'cheating with that slut Hillary' and, 'lying about the party.' Jackie watched as they yelled back and forth for a few minutes before the girl stormed out quicker than she'd entered, the boy jumping up to follow her.

Wasting no time with the opportunity fate had dropped in her lap, Jackie ran to the display window. The jacket was hanging too high up for her to reach the hanger so instead she grabbed its bottom and began to yank with all her might. Just when she thought it would never come off, something gave. The whole bar it was hooked onto came crashing down with a dull thud. Shirts and coats fell in a pile beneath the rod, a bit of plaster from where it had ripped out of the wall covering the clothes in a fine dusting, but Jackie had her jacket. Clinging tightly to her prize, she saw the clerk through the window, anger written over his face, the girl from before nowhere in sight. He was heading back into the store, seeing her at the same time she'd spotted him. Jackie would never be able to get out the front now.

"Hey, what the fuck?!" His voice was slightly muffled to Jackie's ears as it passed through the glass to reach her. Turning, she saw two doors on either side of the back wall. _The left one_ , a voice in her head commanded. She listened. Sprinting, Jackie tore it open the second the door's handle was in reach. The jingling bell attached to the entrance behind alerted her the clerk was close now. He was big, much bigger than her, and his legs were longer. How had she ever thought she could get away? A brief hallway led her to some kind of storage room. Slamming the door behind her she saw it had a lock. Turning it just in time, the door handle jiggled furiously as he clerk attempted to open it.

"You better unlock this fucking door you little shit!" he screamed, slamming his body into the closed entry point. Glancing around she saw only one other way out of the room. Rushing over she turned down the handle, holding her breath. A small gasp of relief escaped when she saw the heavy door frame opened to the alley. Turning a corner it led right into a main street. Her legs carried her closer and closer to the busy intersection ahead, spurred on by adrenaline and the thrill of what she was doing. If she could make it into the street she would be lost to the crowd. But the clerk had made his way into the alley and was shouting behind her, cursing, yelling for her to stop this instant or she'd be in big trouble. It did him no good, and Jackie collided with several people before shooting off down the pavement. He stood at the end of the alley a few seconds before deciding to return to his post. Finding a needle in a haystack would be easier than catching the little brat among this throng of people. As Jackie continued to run down the streets, elbowing people out of the way, the clerk turned back down the alley.

She waited at the end of the street, panting. The sign held up an orange hand but her pursuer wasn't anywhere to be seen. Just as the traffic signal switched and the mass of people pushed forward, a little boy behind her began to cry as he dropped his stuffed toy. It was quickly kicked ahead of him by he flow of feet but Jackie caught hold of it, turning back to hand the turtle to the tearful child. His mother thanked her and she began heading back home. Part way there, despite the fact that the weather was still rather warm, Jackie donned the jacket. It hung loosely but felt right, as though it belonged on her small shoulders. Each step brought new confidence. Confidence and a certain aloofness. Pulling her Walkman from her ripped, slightly too-big-for-her jean's back pocket she immersed herself in music. Taking into account only her too large jacket, shortness and face, still a bit plump with baby fat, she might have looked a bit funny. However her expression told a different story. Every inch of Jackie's expression had 'Don't fuck with me' written over it. Something was growing in her, something she hadn't experienced ever before: power. Power and control. She felt tough and mean. With each step that brought her closer to home she sensed an inevitable confrontation. It was no longer her own will moving her but something else, another force entirely.

As was usual for a late Friday afternoon, the apartment door was unlocked. Raymond was slouched on the couch with a beer, eyes glazed as they stared through the television. His head snapped to her as she opened the door, immediately taking note of her new attire.

"Where the fuck did ya get that?"

"Nowhere," she spat, striding towards her room. Before making it halfway down the hall Raymond had risen.

A grimace twitched at the edge of his mouth. "What was that, you little cunt?"

Nothing could have prepared Jackie for what lept out of her own mouth next. She turned around to face her uncle, the man who had molested and beaten her for 5 years of her life, speaking in a dangerously low undertone. "You heard me, you fucking fat piece of shit." Despite the shock at her own words, there was no fear or regret. Instead anger rose in her. Anger for all the times she'd cried herself to sleep, for when her rear-end had been too covered in red welts from his belt to be able to sit, for the times he'd touched her body and made her feel like so much filth.

The shock was on his face as well. Jackie savored his idiotic, unsettled features before they devolved into pure rage. He charged her like a bull seeing red, ramming her into the wall. Head knocking into it, she felt dazed. Meaty fists slammed into her face, once, twice, a third time. Before the fourth was able to land she dropped to the floor, scurrying under Raymond's tree-trunk legs. Momentum carried his fist into the paneling where it tore through plaster which, in turn, tore into his knuckles. Howling with pain he retracted it, surveying his own blood with disbelief. Jackie was already in the kitchen now, pulling out the longest, fattest blade she could find from a drawer. The kitchen and living room weren't separated, both were crowded between the same four walls of the apartment. The television still blared as the weather man droned on about the expected rain that night. Raymond stumbled into the front room as Jackie turned to face her attacker, both hands gripping the knife. Already her eyes and face were swelling. Blood trickled from her nose.

Once again Jackie's voice was low, venom and determination dripped from every word. "If you come at me again, I'll fucking kill you, you fat shit. I'll stick you like the pig you are."

Brows knitted together, he seemed to consider the situation. But his brain was unable to grasp the shift in his niece; any change was lost on him. He was big, much larger than the scrawny 11 year old before him. Even with a knife he believed there was no way she could beat him, nor did he believe she would actually use her weapon. No one dared to defy Raymond Burke, no one. Didn't matter how they did it or what they had on their side: as far as he was concerned defying him meant you got put down. Yelling, he ran forward, fists raised to strike. Almost in slow motion, Jackie pointed the handle upwards. His own velocity carried his throat towards the cold metal. In the seconds before it sunk into him, realization dawned. All his past deeds of inflicting terror, the abuse he turned towards others... they flashed through his mind, a montage of his cruelty. In his final seconds, as he saw the vast, deafening end before him, held in the hands of a child, he understood how wretched he was. In the last sliver of his life, Raymond knew he was hell bound. Fear chilled his body... and the knife found its mark. A few weak punches landed across Jackie's shoulders as blood squirted in a lengthy stream from the wound, pouring across her face, her white shirt, her black leather jacket. Sputtering, she side-stepped the enormous man as he toppled, knife still stuck inside. Colliding with the floor, it pushed upwards through the wound, causing it to poke obscenely out the other side. Jackie dropped onto the kitchen floor, knees thudding on tile, breath uneven. Some of the strength from before slowly flowed out of her. For a few moments she was paralyzed by the blood coating her, as if it were a heavy weight. Then the tears came. Partly, they were tears of horror. Mostly they were full of relief. Realization dawned that the police needed to be called. Jackie walked to the telephone in a trance, feeling very far away from the room around her. Thumbing 9-1-1 on the dial pad, she waited, bug eyed and numb.

A voice crackled over, inquiring what the emergency was. All at once the calm broke and the storm washed in. As she spoke, her sobs made the words unintelligible. Finally, they rushed out, desperate to escape and be heard. "I... I k-killed my uncle. H-h-he attacked me, and..." then she trailed off, a bit unsure how to go on. "... I stabbed him."

Sympathy, shock, and a twinge of unease colored the woman's voice as she questioned about where Jackie lived before telling her the police would arrive shortly. Nodding, Jackie hung up while the woman went on, trying to reassure her. Warily, she glanced to her red smeared hands. Eyes playing tricks on her, the dark crimson appeared to twitch and swirl under her scrutiny; faces came into existence before dissipating. Feeling ill, Jackie rushed to the bathroom, knuckles white as her hands held the porcelain rim of the sink in a death grip. Unreality threatened to overwhelm her. Attempting to shirk the sensation away, she commenced furiously scrubing her tanned skin. She viewed her reflection in the mirror and saw blood was still caked across her hairline but that would have to wait. The red on her leather jacket was more important to her then and she did her best to wipe it away before tossing the thing under her bed. It was stolen, that was enough reason to make her want to hide it from the police. In Jackie's young mind she feared the pilfered item of clothing had been reported and they'd recognize it, haul her into the slammer for stealing. Unsure of what else to do she paced the hallway for a time before wandering into the front room again. A pack of camels resting on the counter caught her attention. Striding over Jackie plucked one of the few remaining sticks from the crumpled white box. Resting it between her lips she tore a match from the box beside it before lighting the cigarette with a shaking hand and inhaling deeply. Coughing fits wracked her scrawny frame but she inhaled again and again. Sliding down to the floor and resting her back against the kitchen cabinets behind her, Jackie waited for the police to arrive, lids open as wide as they'd go while something that was not quite a smile played at the edge of her lips.


	2. Finding Watership Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuckin bunnies

Following the police report, in which Jackie finally found the strength to divulge everything her uncle had done to her in gory detail, she'd been moved to one of the children's homes of New York City while her social worker attempted to find any family members to take her in. It would be 6 years before progress would be made on that front, and in that time Jackie moved through quite a number of foster homes. Destiny had cast her as the rebellious child with a troubled past and she gladly played the part; staying out til the early hours of the morning, smoking, drinking, becoming a terror to her teachers, and, of course, listening to rock and roll. Recollections of life with her uncle, even her memories of her parents, began to fade into the realm of the subconscious. They weren't forgotten, not exactly. These memories affected her actions in nearly every way. Only now they laid quietly at the back of her head, their potency pulling her strings like a marionette. There was another power there as well, something quite outside herself, which tugged and bent her will. It was another agency that was not linked to her past, but rather her future.

Jackie glanced at her watch absently as she took another drag from her cigarette, loitering in the dark of the alley way. "Where is that mohawked fuck?" Smoke issued from her nostrils, curling under her chin. Long hair done up in a ponytail, her neck was left feeling slightly chilled. On principal, Jackie refused to turn up her leather jacket's collar; she thought it made the wearer seem like they were trying too hard to look tough.

Clattering cans alerted her to someone making their way down the alley. Pushing off the brick behind her Jackie faced whoever it was. As she'd suspected, Scott was there to greet her. Tossing her spent cigarette at her feet and stomping it out, she rolled her eyes. "Finally. What took you so long?"

He smiled in the crooked way Jackie had grown fond of (though never in a million years would she admit to that) and proffered the prize she'd been anticipating: her book.

As she went to reach for it, Scott held it above his head. "Ah ah ah," he chided. "It wasn't easy to steal this from the old bat. I want a thank you first." He grinned down at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Thank you," Jackie stated dryly.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" He relinquished the book to her then. "So why'd you need this copy? Why not just steal another from somewhere else?"

"I don't need a reason for wanting back what's mine. That bitch had no right to take this away."

"Well maybe if you hadn't slashed your brothers bed up to ribbons..."

"He's not my brother." Jackie cut Scott off quickly. "They're just fostering me until I'm moved again. And that fucking prick had it coming. Anyway, none of this would have been necessary if she'd hidden it at home instead of at her friend's house. Fucking bitch."

"So what's the book about, anyways? The name makes no sense."

Pulling another cigarette from her back pocket Jackie waited for Scott to light it before answering. "Bunnies."

He scoffed. "No the fuck it isn't."

Jackie opened the book to a random page, holding it out with one hand. "See for yourself."

After a brief inspection Scott shook his head. "Fucking bunnies."

"Fucking bunnies," Jackie agreed.

The next morning Jackie's few possessions were already packed away, some of the articles of clothing jutting out conspicuously as they'd been shoved in her backpack with little care. Of course she was moving back. Her foster family had told the agency she was simply too much: unruly and uncontrollable. Of course they'd added she was a menace to their precious son. She chuckled aloud at that. As if she was the problem child here. Mark had been lucky she'd only cut a few holes in his mattress instead of cutting his dick off after what he'd tried to do to her. Knowing how angry it would make Margaret, Jackie's contemptuous foster mother, she lit a cigarette in her room, leaning back on the bed, lazily examining cracks in the ceiling. Not long after a horn honked, signaling her social worker had arrived to take her back to the home. Springing forward she stomped down the stairs, her 'family' waiting at the door. Margaret and her husband, Richard, viewed her up and down with unconcealed dislike.

Jackie could tell Margaret was fixing to say something about her smoking inside, but she spoke up first. "Thanks for the room and board." A mocking smile spread over her lips as she saluted mother, father and son. Inhaling deeply, Jackie paused at the entrance before blowing a gout of smoke towards Mark. Angry protests erupted from both parents as their 18 year old son coughed and sputtered dramatically. Unzipping the pack draped across her shoulder, Jackie triumphantly held aloft the book Margaret had tried to take from her, flipping the lot of them off with her other hand. As she slid into her social worker's car she studied the dreadful family, blowing a kiss and enjoying their indignation for a final time before the vehicle pulled away.

"Put that cigarette out, would you?" Jackie turned in surprise to face the driver. This was not who she'd been expecting.

"Where the fuck is Mrs. Grimwald?"

"I'm afraid she's been... let go. I've been assigned to your case."

Jackie let out a bark of laughter, taking another drag from her camel. "No shit," she mumbled, continuing to disregard the woman's earlier request.

It appeared the social worker had decided to overlook the still-lit fag and instead introduced herself. "I'm Ms. Bethany Rotsietter. It's a pleasure to meet you Jackie."

No response came from the girl in the passenger seat, who only continued staring through the window. Ms. Rotsietter let the silence continue a few minutes before trying again. "I know you've been moving around a lot but I'm going to find you a good home." Bethany knew this sounded lame, was lame, but it was heartfelt nonetheless.

Apparently not heartfelt enough to earn anymore than a sarcastic, cheerless laugh from Jackie. "Nobody wants to adopt a 17 year old, Beth."

Bethany wrinkled her nose at the nickname she so severely hated, but refrained from informing Jackie of the fact. Likely it would only make certain that that's all Jackie ever called her.

Instead, she tried to reassure her. "You shouldn't give up hope."

"Can't give up something you don't have, Bethe."

If she disliked Beth, she hated Bethe a hundred times more. Still, she let the unfavorable nickname slide. "We'll find a place where you belong."

At that point Jackie was mostly wrapped in her own thoughts, no longer bothering to pay attention to the woman beside her. She'd given up hope of a real family many years ago. She had Scott and a few other friends here and there. They were enough. Enough. Enough. Her friends were enough. If you heard something over and over, eventually you'd start to believe it.

That night, as she was so used to doing, Jackie opened the window of the top floor room, climbing from the fire escape down into the alley. A brisk, 11 minute walk brought her to the abandoned warehouse where Scott lived with a few others. No one was home at the moment, not that it mattered. She was mostly here for the guitar. Scott had stolen it and an amplifier long before he'd met her, although she was the only one who used it. After first meeting Scott and his friends Jackie had quickly fallen in with them. They'd gotten into a great deal of trouble together, quite a lot of fights too. Mostly the fights had been with her new friends personal enemies and their respective groups, but one time they'd laid out a couple of loan shark goons to save some poor bastard in an alley. After they'd thoroughly beaten the two broad men with a lot of effort, for reasons beyond her capacity to understand, Jackie had stolen the brass knuckles one of the men had been wearing. If it hadn't been for the cover of darkness, Jackie felt sure they'd probably have been tracked down and killed for what they'd done to the thugs.

When Scott, Carter, and Raven first took her back to their 'lair', as they referred to it, the guitar had stood out to her like a light in a dark tunnel. Every day for 5 years she had honed her skills on the instrument, grabbing as many lesson books as she could steal. At this point Jackie easily replicated the wicked sounds of her favorite songs on the electric guitar, often entertaining her friends with her expertise.

In a few practiced motions Jackie picked up the heavy instrument, swung low at her hips, turned the Amp to nearly full volume, and began to play. Sometimes she'd lose herself for hours in the harsh melodies of her favorite artists, duplicating them with seasoned fingers. No one had returned by the time she finally laid the guitar back in its place at 3 in the morning. She had a few tests tomorrow, if she wanted to at least stay awake for them she knew she should head back. Luckily no one noticed her absence at the orphanage, or if they had they didn't care. No amount of punishment ever seemed to do much to dissuade Jackie of any of her habits. When she wanted to do something she did it, and that was all.


	3. Moving On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Partings and new beginnings.

After a few more failed attempts at placing Jackie in a foster home, Bethany Rotsietter made an unexpected discovery: Jackie had a distant relative in Maine. It was the sister of her father's mother. This connection had not been made earlier due to a combination of circumstances. The first being Jackie's great aunt was married and widowed a number of times, thus changing her name quite a bit. The second being some poor and downright incorrect record keeping. The great aunt, born Tabitha Burke, has been declared dead along with her most recent husband after a car accident. She was not, in fact, dead, but living in a small town called Derry, her security assured by her various dead husband’s wills and estates. None were particularly grand but Tabitha had enough to get by, and, the social worker was certain, enough to provide for a teenager. At least for one more year, anyway.

Bethany eagerly waited for Jackie to return from school, or wherever she was, to deliver the news, tirelessly looking down the street; left, right, left, right. A beaten down car, engine roaring and music blasting through lowered windows, screeched to a stop in front of the New York children's home. Jackie promptly removed herself from the passenger's seat, waving goodbye to Scott, Axl and Raven before turning to notice Bethany.

A mocking smile plastered itself on Jackie's lips. “What brings you outside Ms. Rotter?”

Bethany refused to correct her, knowing it would do no good, and not especially caring in any case. “I found a relative of yours!” She could barely contain excitement as the words spilled out, anticipating the girl's reaction.

Instant seriousness covered Jackie's face, body stiffening. Silence, then, haltingly, “... Who?” Suddenly her voice sounded hoarse, like she wasn't used to using it.

“Her name is Tabitha Regis, she was your father's mother's sister, your great aunt. I've just recently contacted her. She's more than willing to take you in, didn't even mind if she met you first or not. She wants you there as soon as possible.” Bethany's enthusiasm had subsided substantially at Jackie's less than ideal reaction. The young orphan’s features loosened a little, hearing the relative was female. That was enough to encourage Ms. Rotsietter to continue. “She lives in Derry, Maine. From what I hear it's a beautiful place. I've already made arrangements at the local high school. I know it isn't an ideal time to start, but you're smart, you'd barely be two months behind. I know you can catch up quickly. Get packed tonight and we'll leave tomorrow afternoon.”

For the first time since Bethany had met her, Jackie had no snarky or sarcastic comment to make. Placing each booted foot carefully on the cement stairs she passed wordlessly by her social worker to the room she shared with 8 others. Outwardly she appeared numb and stiff but her mind whirled with a maddening tumble of thoughts. Was this what she wanted? She'd have to say goodbye to the only friends she'd ever had. Did she have to leave? Could they force her to go? What if she ran away as she so often dreamt of? What would her great aunt be like? How long would the drive take? What would Derry be like? What would school be like? Would the teachers there hate her as much as they did here? Would her aunt take care of her? Did she want to be taken care of?

All through dinner and clean up, Jackie's eyes were far away, and even the fall of night brought no sleep or comfort.

In the end, any thoughts of running away and remaining in New York were put out. Jackie could no more have stayed in New York than she could have resisted stealing the leather jacket she nearly always wore. Tears had almost (but not quite) been shed by Jackie while she farewelled her friends. As she and Scott clung tightly to one another, saying goodbye for the last time, he'd sworn he'd visit her when he could. Jackie grimaced at that. They both knew he was lying. Before she'd left though, Scott gave her the electric guitar and amplifier, saying without her it was no good anyway.  Bethany had been surprised by the musical equipment but graciously avoided questioning it. All her things were stowed in the trunk of Ms. Rotsietter’s Ford pinto by 11:00 that morning.

“We're nearly there,” the social worker chirped. Jackie curled her lips at the upbeat tone in her voice. Somewhere along the 10 hour drive she had decided she was unhappy with the turn of events. This wouldn't be any kind of break for her. Her aunt would be harsh, the kids at her school would be nasty, the house would be full of roaches, the boys would be ugly, and everyone would hate her. These presumptions were Jackie's guard against hope. Bad circumstances she could handle, but not hope. As far as she was concerned, hope was a poison, and cynicism was the most effective antidote.

In a half hour the Derry town sign flew by on Jackie's right, and a familiar chill coursed through her body.

 _I'm home_ , she thought absently.


	4. Derry High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jackie is immediately noticed by the wrong people

Soft sunlight streamed in through the pastel pink curtains decorating one of the two windows in Jackie's room. She'd have to take those down later, they just weren't quite her style. Her first night in the new bed had been surprisingly fitful. Something about the sheets smelled...  _like home_... familiar in an odd way. Unable to place the scent or distant memory it seemed to stir in her, Jackie had ignored the deja vu in favor of sleep. Now glancing at the clock resting on the bedside table, she saw there were several hours until she needed to be at school. Stomach turning at the thought of the new and unknown, she focused instead on unpacking her few belongings. The books were laid to rest on the bedside table next to her clock. Clothes hurriedly stuffed into various drawers, she heaved her musical equipment into the closet. Her only footwear consisted of two pairs of boots and one pair of terribly beaten up black keds.

She'd been too tired last night to explore the house much, complaining of a headache so she could shower and retire to bed early. Muffled sounds of the exchange between Bethany and her aunt had prevailed in the late hours before Bethany felt it was time for her return journey. Before Jackie had showered that first night Tabitha had energetically shown her to her room, saying, "It's so good to have you here again!"

Jackie was confused by that remark but let it slide without questions. Her aunt seemed a little cooked in the head or something; simple, to say the least. That worked just fine for Jackie. Having a guardian who wasn't all there would only make life easier.

Throwing on a white t-shirt, one of the few pairs of jeans she possessed, ripped, as the others were, and the only belt that belonged to her, she began lacing up her high tops. Not yet ready to go downstairs, she started to poke more thoroughly around the room. Nothing under the bed or mattress but dust, a few dead bugs under the rug, some paper and nearly used up pencils in the desk drawers. A few books sat atop the desk: Treasure Island, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, The Adventures of Captain Hatteras, and Bram Stoker's Dracula. It likely would have surprised many of Jackie's teachers in New York to learn that the student who almost never read her assignments and continually caused problems in class loved to read. Not even Scott knew this about her. If she wasn't out late causing trouble, she was huddled under her sheets, eyes eagerly soaking up a new story. Relief could be found between the pages of a book, giving her a chance to immerse herself in the adventures, miseries and triumphs of others. They were her escape, a way of coping with reality, burning and unrelenting as it was. Getting a library card being out of the question to her, she instead read in the library or snuck out what she wanted and returned it later... usually.

Some of the stories now sitting atop the desk were ones Jackie had read, but The Adventures of Captain Hatteras and Treasure Island were new. As she slipped on her leather jacket, she thought eagerly of reading one of them that night once she'd returned. Next, she stood in front of the mirror hanging on the inside of the closet door, admiring what she saw. Though she would never have admitted to it, Jackie was quite vain. Her long, silky brown hair was a source of pride. Definitive yet soft facial features paired with a slim, slightly muscled frame gave her abundant confidence. If you had watched her carefully as she walked down the streets of New York, you would've caught her glancing at her reflection in store windows. Taking one last, long look in the full length mirror, Jackie secreted away a few cigarettes in her pocket. Shouldering the backpack which had contained nearly all her possessions before the move, she thought of how light it was in comparison to before, now holding only a few candy bars, her brass knuckles, only because she liked them to be nearby, and some spare change. The candy bars had a similar if less harmful function than cigarettes: satisfying an addiction.

A pleasant smell greeted her as she descended. Peering into the kitchen she saw her great aunt cooking up a storm. Unnoticed by the woman, Jackie seated herself at the kitchen table. Pancakes and bacon sat before her, piled high enough to be in danger of toppling over. Apparently her great aunt decided making enough food to feed Jackie several times over wasn't quite good enough, because she was hovered over a pan making a slew of scrambled eggs. Jackie took note of Tabitha's grey hair done neatly up, her high heeled shoes clacking on the kitchen's tile, the distracted ease with which she cooked. She was a housewife through and through, a product of the 40s and 50s. Jackie hoped this didn't mean she was in for a lot of talks about what being a proper lady meant and what her dull role in the world was: cooking and cleaning for a man while looking pretty. By the time her aunt loaded the eggs onto a plate, Jackie had already wolfed down several pancakes and a sizeable portion of the bacon in front of her. Tabitha jumped a bit as she turned, not expecting to see the teen up so early.

"I thought we'd start your first morning in this house right." The old woman smiled, revealing lipstick stained teeth. "We didn't get much of a chance to talk last night. Is your headache gone?"

Jackie merely nodded; the headache had been a lie to begin with. "You can call me Auntie if you want, or Aunt Tabitha, or Tabby, I don't really mind." The wrinkles crisscrossing her face pulled back as she smiled a second time.

Jackie wordlessly scraped most of the eggs onto her plate before shoveling huge bites into her mouth. If Tabitha thought this rude or unladylike, she kept silent about it. Her aunt ate with slow delicacy, making sure to laboriously chew every bite with her dentures. The slow way her creased lips moved with each bite irritated Jackie to no end. To make matters worse, despite the fact her great Aunt's mouth was closed, the smacking sound of her gums was enough to drive someone insane.

Abruptly excusing herself, Jackie tersely thanked her aunt for the meal, informing her she was off to school.

"Wait, dear, let me drive you!" The old woman stood, leaving unfinished food on the plate and shuffling to the door. Sighing, Jackie decided against insisting to walk. Though she had seen where the high school was on her drive through town with Ms. Rotsietter, she decided allowing her aunt to chauffeur her this once wouldn't matter. As it turned out, she was much more talkative in the car than at the breakfast table. Jackie effectively tuned most of it out, not really caring to hear about the neighbors, garden, or the nice young boy who sometimes came to read to her. As Tabitha pulled up to Derry high school, she informed Jackie she'd be around at 2:20 to pick her up.

Eyes rolling, Jackie turned her face from the window for the first time since they'd started driving. A deceptively real smile lit up her face as she spoke. "I'd like to walk home, if that's okay with you, Aunt Tabitha. I wanted to explore the town a bit after classes let out. I haven't been in a new place for a long time. I promise to be back for supper."

This performance was more than enough to convince her aunt who nodded, that same ridiculous smile spreading across her wrinkled features. "See you then. Have a wonderful first day, dear!" Jackie removed herself from the car without looking back.

Normally, she'd never deign to arrive at school before the first bell rang but she needed to pick up her class roster in the office. From what Bethany said, it should be prepared already. A trickle of students were flowing into the main doors as Jackie approached. Some cars occupied the parking lot, none noteworthy. Various faces turned to glance at her as she ascended the stairs. Before quite reaching the doors, propped open to allow students entry, she paused. There was that chill again, that sense of change, or maybe it was more like a deliberate shifting towards some end goal. Irritated, she funneled these ridiculous thoughts away, stepping firmly across the threshold.

The office was easy enough to spot. It stood directly to the left as soon as you entered the doors, a wall of glass windows offering a view inside. Pulling the heavy door open, Jackie waited for a receptionist to appear, resting her upper body on the counter. A few minutes passed and still she saw no one. Suddenly Jackie's ears pricked up. A car pulling into the school lot was blasting a familiar song: Seek and Destroy by Metallica. An engine roared briefly before shutting off. Seconds later a bit of a hush fell on the rapidly growing number of teenagers entering the school. Jackie turned sideways to see what the sudden drop in noise was about. Three boys entered her line of vision: one skinny, hair short and bleached, the second wore a glowering look on his face, sporting a mullet. The third, tall with shoulder length black hair, was laughing as he entered, but suddenly his head tilted towards Jackie, a disturbing smile poisoning what would otherwise have been an attractive face. Briefly, he turned serious, looking the new girl up and down before the smile returned. Nudging one of his companions he said something, unintelligible through the glass, pointing to Jackie. All three were leering at her now, slowing their sauntering steps ever so slightly.

Shit eating grin still plastered to his face, the dark haired boy mouthed,  _Fresh meat_ , before his tongue flicked out to lick his lips. They turned then, apparently no longer concerned with her. For the time being, at least. Throughout this little encounter Jackie kept her expression steadily hostile, chin tilted up, eyes cold and mouth set in a grim line.

The receptionist, who'd finally decided to grace her post, called Jackie's attention back to the front desk. "May I help you?" she inquired sweetly as she sat.

"Yeah. I'm Jackie Burke, I'm supposed to pick up my schedule," Jackie replied dryly.

Continuing to smile, the receptionist stood to open a file cabinet behind her, sifting her red, manicured nails through folders before pulling out a single sheet. "Here you are." She gingerly handed the paper across to the young girl. "Your locker number and combination are written there at the bottom. Getting started might be difficult since you're beginning a little late in the year but I'm sure you'll do well enough."

Jackie rolled her eyes, not caring if the receptionist noticed. "Yeah, thanks lady." As she turned to go, the woman spoke up again, voice showcasing her annoyance with the attitude she was getting. "There's someone assigned to show you to your classes today, if you'll just wait a few more minutes..."

"No thank you," Jackie called, not bothering to even turn her head as the office door swung shut behind her. There was still time before her first class to explore a bit, get a feel for where everything was. An emergency escape map plan of the first floor, located just outside one of the downstairs girl's bathrooms, was enough to figure out the location of her homeroom. Making her way through the sea of bodies Jackie went to the line of lockers until she found hers, 217. Her class roster had the combination scribbled beneath her last class of the day and she carefully spun the dial to each number in the sequence. Of course once the pad clicked open to grant her access to the small space, she didn't have much to put in, only her backpack containing candy and the brass knuckles. Thinking better of it, Jackie surreptitiously slipped the knuckles into a hidden pocket on the inside of her jacket. Roster in hand, she quickly mapped out the rest of her classrooms so she'd know where to find them. The halls were mostly empty as she located her final class on the second floor when the bell rang. Whoever was left in the hallway rushed into nearby rooms and Jackie cursed under her breath. Now when she entered homeroom there'd be no slipping quietly to the back. Reaching the door she turned down the handle, preparing herself with a supercilious smile. Chalk scratching across the board ceased and, just as she knew would happen, all eyes snapped to her.

Still wearing her grin Jackie addressed the man with the chalk. "Sorry I'm late, teach." She began moving towards the back of the room before the teacher called out to her.

"I believe you're the new girl, joining us all the way from New York. Why don't you stand up here and introduce yourself." Crossing his arms he raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Continuing to the back of the class Jackie slid unceremoniously into a chair by the window. "Nah."

"You don't want to start your year here off on the wrong foot. You're already behind," the teacher chided her. "At least tell us your name."

"Jackie Burke." Her voice held no emotion as she stared down the man at the head of the classroom, lips set tightly. Deciding not to press further, he continued with his planned lesson. Jackie hadn't bothered to look for a notebook or pencil at her new house, notes weren't really her thing. Fingers tapping thoughtlessly against the desk, she stared out the window, trying to think of nothing and being utterly unsuccessful. A small girl seated in front of her, shoulders hunched like a bird in fear of getting its head knocked off, turned to pass her one of her own pencils and a few pages of notebook paper without a word. The girl hadn't even made eye contact, just turned back to the front to continue her own writing. Though she still didn't intend to take notes Jackie was taken aback at the unexpected kindness from the pretty blonde. Doodling helped stifle boredom in any case. Even without giving her full attention, Jackie's ears didn't miss much.

Distracted with the lesson and her own drawings, Jackie failed to notice the searching hazel eyes of the boy beside her. Every now and again they'd rake over her, taking in every last curve. Jackie's leather jacket wasn't quite enough to hide her ever-growing chest from the view of Henry Bowers, but her legs, blue jeans clinging to their outline tantalizingly, were what he found himself most drawn to. Some tanned bits of skin showed through the holes littered over the fabric and he thought how easy it would be to slip his fingers through those holes to caress the leg underneath. All her cascading brown hair was draped across the shoulder closest to him. He wished it was across the other side so he could look at her neck, and so she would be more likely to catch him staring. He always got a thrill from that, when a girl would notice his hungry eyes on them. Most would blush and look away, others would scoff or berate his perverted behavior. None of that mattered to him. You'd be hard pressed to find any girls at Derry High who willingly  _let_  Henry Bowers touch them, although they did exist. Unabashedly predatory glances, shouting lewd comments, whistling, wolf calls, occasionally lifting up a skirt as it passed: these were generally all Henry had to satisfy himself with. As the new girl shifted in her seat, her rear end drew Henry's eyes towards it. Just as he was imagining what it would feel like to rub his fingers across it, the bell rang, startling the boy out of his thoughts.

Jackie stalked up to the front of the room where the teacher handed her the class book before dismissing her. She'd meant to return the pencil to the blonde but she was already out of sight. Combination already memorized, Jackie began stuffing her new book inside. A loud slap resonated against her backside as a hand smacked her hard, square in the butt. Immediately she spun around, grabbing the first kid she saw behind her and slamming him into the lockers. Guilt filled her as she saw how small and scared the dark haired boy was. Already she knew he hadn't been the one who'd done it. She asked anyway, teeth gritted. "You smack my ass?"

Shaking his head violently he gasped. "No! No, I swear it wasn't me!" As Jackie set him down he took a long drag from an inhaler.

Face softening slightly, she began to apologize. "Shit, I'm sorry kid." Sifting through her locker, she unzipped her pack and took out a hershey bar. "Look, uh, take this as an apology, okay? I'm really sorry about that." Not quite trusting this new student he grabbed it warily, eyes searching her face as he decided if he could trust her. Jackie leaned over a bit. "You see who did it?"

Again, he shook his head vigorously. Eddie had, in fact, seen who had slapped her, but there was no way he was about to rat out Henry Bowers.

"Sorry again. I owe you one, alright?"

The boy nodded before continuing off down the hall, fanny pack bouncing. "Shit," Jackie repeated again, feeling like the biggest ass in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a few more chapters written but I like a buffer in case I get writers block or anything, next upload will be in about a week. If you've actually read this far and are enjoying the story, please tell me, I thrive on praise (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞ The next chapter may or may not (but definitely does) have Patrick in it.


	5. The Jennifers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackie makes some new acquaintances, and discovers not paying attention to who you sit in front of can result in some rather unfortunate consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Patrick is in this one but more towards the end. Thanks so much to the people who left comments and kudos, I can't tell you how happy it makes me! I was originally going to post this chapter on Monday or Tuesday but, like, seriously, I really appreciated the comments and kudos. If you are reading this story and enjoying it, please let me know, it would mean a lot. Hope you like this chapter.

Jackie's second class of the day was gym, something she was almost looking forward to. Any physical abilities she had had been mostly focused into fist fights in the past but she was fairly versatile. Before she'd really made a name for herself as a rebellious little shit at her other school she'd been part of the girl's basketball team. It hadn't been her choice to quit, but rather the constant detentions and low grades that had finally done in her high school sports career. Noticing the curious glances directed her way as she walked towards the gymnasium, Jackie stood up straighter, face assuming an expression somewhere in between bored and annoyed.

Mrs. Whaler, the girls gym instructor, offered Jackie an oversized set of sandy brown gym clothes as she entered the locker room. "These are yours. You're expected to wash them regularly and wear them every gym class."

Scrunching her nose, she regarded the t-shirt and shorts suspiciously. "You got anything that doesn't smell so rank? Say, something that's been washed in the last century?"

Ignoring the comment, Mrs. Whaler shoved the clothes into Jackie's chest, forcing her to take them.

"Guess not," she sighed as the teacher walked off. Furtive glances were already being cast to her as she slipped into the old gym wear. The other girls were sizing her up, trying to figure the newcomer out. Tying her hair up into a ponytail, Jackie surveyed the room, daring anyone to make eye contact. Several faces looked quickly away as her gaze reached them. However there were two girls who stared on, undaunted by Jackie's cold expression. One sauntered up and Jackie immediately disliked her haughty attitude and false smile. This was one of the girls who was going to try to make Jackie's life miserable if she didn't fall in line, the kind who knew she was attractive and made sure everyone else did too. Their power came from the ability to intimidate others and make them feel small, or important, whichever suited them. A few girls at her old school had tried to knock Jackie down a few notches with underhanded tactics and rumors but none of that had phased her in the slightest. Eventually they'd decided she wasn't even worth the trouble. Of course another deterrent was that, unlike many other girls, if Jackie got pissed off enough her go to solution involved a good old fashioned fist fight.

Offering a hand, the girl introduced herself. "I'm Jennifer. That back there is Allison. You're new here, right?"

Jackie looked down at the proffered hand then back at Jennifer without taking it, face displaying disinterest. "Yeah."

The girl lowered her hand, a sneer barely hidden. "Nice to meet you, new girl. We'll be seeing you around."

"Don't count on it." Jackie turned then, heading out from the locker room into the gymnasium, already bored with the encounter. Bleachers were beginning to fill as the girls took seats across them, scattered into their various social groups. Blonde hair caught Jackie's eye; the girl from her homeroom was sitting off to one side with a few others. The blonde stared off into the distance, eyes wide, wrapped in whatever thoughts were running around her head. A brunette girl sitting beside her, hair short and poorly cut, enthusiastically waved Jackie over as she made eye contact. Uncertain of what else to do she obliged, striding up the bleachers to the back where they were sitting. Before Jackie had even fully sat down the brown haired girl began talking.

"Here at Derry High we like to offer our students gym clothes with the stink already attached. Saves some time. They're actually made to absorb the stench, I could smell those rags you've got on before you even left the locker room. You're Jackie, right? The new girl?"

"Uh, yeah."

Motioning to the blonde from Jackie's homeroom, the girl continued, barely taking time to breathe. "Jennifer told me a little bit about you. She let you borrow her pencil and some paper, but I'm sure you remember that. Well, I guess the paper was more given than borrowed, I don't think she wants it back. I'm Moira, by the way. Also, I know I just introduced her as Jennifer but don't let the other Jennifer hear you calling her that or she'll have a cow. It's this whole big thing. See, back in the second grade Jennifer decided she didn't like Jennifer having the same name as her so she made everyone call her Jenn and it stuck because Jennifer, not this Jennifer, the mean one, is one of those queen bee types who people seem to follow along like a lot of sheep and..."

"Moira?" Jackie practically barked the name out, although she really did try to keep the irritation from her voice. "I get it. I'll call her Jenn."

Moira nodded, apparently sated.

Studying her dirty white shoes, Jenn's quiet voice spoke up. "She doesn't always talk that much."

"Sure, if you say so," Jackie returned, although not unkindly.

Jenn only continued to stare at her sneakers, as though their sullied surface held some sort of intriguing secret she wanted to crack.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

A shy half smile crossed her face as she tentatively looked Jackie in the eye, shaking her head.

"I talk enough for the both of us and then some," Moira beamed.

"No kidding," Jackie mumbled.

A few minutes passed with only the murmur here and there of the other female students. Suddenly Jenn tensed. Jackie followed her eyes and saw Jennifer and Allison enter, whispering conspiratorially as wicked grins plastered their pretty, makeuped faces. Even the way they lowered themselves onto the bleachers to sit pissed Jackie off, so prim and self-important. Yet a few more minutes passed before Mrs. Whaler finally entered, 5 minutes after class had been supposed to start.

Leaning back on her elbows and pushing back the cuticles of her nails, Jackie ignored the drone of the teacher. Her ability to tune people out had turned into a bit of an artform. She barely listened to what most adults said, absorbed in her own thoughts yet understanding just enough to avoid getting herself into trouble. Usually. She was aware of Moira fidgeting and occasionally whispering some series of run-on sentences to Jenn but her focus was more internal. Hard as she tried she couldn't seem to get Scott out of her head. That damn crooked smile of his would drive her crazy if she couldn't forget about it.The teacher prattled on in a deep, commanding voice but Jackie's thoughts were swirling up a storm in her head. She worried about her friends; about Axl and his gambling, Carter, who was always working some half-baked cons and getting himself into trouble. Scott made his money from stealing or stripping down cars of any valuable parts. Jackie had done this with him a number of times and knew he had become quite the expert thief but getting caught was always a prevalent threat. Raven had been a week and a half clean when Jackie left but who knew how long that would last. As she'd said goodbye to her that last day in New York her eyes had looked so sunken and desperate.

Eventually Mrs. Whaler finished whatever fitness based nonsense she had been saying and informed everyone they'd be doing some simple exercises and warm ups that morning. While Jackie stretched her muscles, Jennifer, Allison and a third girl made their way over to Moira and Jenn. Once again, a look of anxiety passed over Jenn's face at the sight of the other girls.

"We love your shoes Jenn, where did you get them?" This was the girl who Jackie was unfamiliar with.

In response Jenn only shrugged her shoulders, trying to ignore them and continuing her stretching.

Jennifer spoke next. "Greta asked you a question. Don't be rude, Jenn."

Allison chimed in, shoving the quiet girl as she spoke. "Yeah Jenn, where'd you get them?"

Jackie looked on silently, waiting to see how the situation would unfold. Moira turned to face the girls, cutting silently between her friend and the agitators. Her tall, awkward body stood a little taller than Allison and had almost 4 inches on Jennifer and Greta. Jackie guessed Moira had a physical strength quite contrary to what a first glance might impress upon a person. Staring down at the girls coldly she said nothing. Jennifer scoffed, a knowing and supercilious sound that made Jackie want to give her a smart, swift punch to the nose. She whirled away then, quickly followed by the other two.

" _I_ like your shoes Jenn. They have character. They scream, 'Look at me, I've been places, I got stories to tell.' Those girls wouldn't know character if it jumped up and bit them on their dimpled asses." Moira's comment was enough to bring a smile onto Jenn's countenance. Jackie thought how stunning it made her look before Mrs. Whaler was commanding the girls to 'Run, and pace yourselves, dammit. I don't want to see anyone walking.'

Gym class finished without Jackie breaking too much of a sweat, but they were required to shower afterwards no matter what. A few girls showered in swimming suits, which they'd apparently had on under their gym clothes. One of these girls was Jenn. As for Jackie, she couldn't care less. If people noticed her scars and burns then so be it, she had nothing to hide. And anyway, Moira's voice echoed in the shower rooms until all the other four senses were rendered practically useless. A few girls even shouted at her to shut the fuck up, for Christ's sake.

In a few minutes Jackie was on her way to the next class, hair slightly damp from steam. Entering, most seats were already filled. Without much thought she set up in the second to last row. It wasn't as close to the window as she liked but it was in the back, that was more important. Twice she caught one of the girls seated nearby casting nervous glances her way. Anytime she caught them at it she glared in return, irritated and more than a bit confused.

To her dismay, she was once again asked to introduce herself. Yet again she gave nothing but her name. Her New York accent made a flagrantly contrasting impression when compared with the Maine drawl and she didn't care to remind everyone of it. As the lesson began and the math teacher spoke, asking questions and offering explanations and re-explanations, something brushed against the bottom of her jacket. She thought nothing of it, probably just the foot of whoever was behind her as they rested it against the bottom of her desk. A few times she reached her hand back to smooth down her hair, feeling as though something kept ghosting across it. A draft, probably. Or so she thought. A loud  _whap_ from behind startled her but no one else payed the sound any heed. Not 10 seconds later she felt the unmistakable sensation of a hand slowly sliding the bottom of her shirt up underneath the jacket. Clammy fingers traced circles in the small of her back. Without even a glance over her shoulder she folded her fingers around the hand, nails digging into skin before roughly shoving it away to the side. A few minutes passed without incident, but then the hand was gingerly brushing her hair to the side and stroking the back of her neck. Hairs stood on end at the contact, indignant. As she went to remove the hand it tightened around the back of her throat.

Angry and unwilling to put up with any more, she turned her head slightly, addressing whoever was behind her with clenched teeth. "Unless you want a couple of broken fingers, I suggest you keep your hands to yourself." To her surprise, the person behind actually listened, letting their digits slide off her skin and down her back before their contact was removed completely. Jackie grew tense, waiting to see if the hand would return. When several minutes passed without incident her muscles began to relax a bit. Temptation to look back and see who had touched her was overcome with some difficulty, but eventually her mind fell into the familiar, semi-attentive state.

It was when there were only a few minutes left in class that the real trouble began. Hands felt up along Jackie on both sides, quickly making their way up to cup her breasts, exploring and then slowly squeezing. A forefinger rubbed circles across where her bra covered a nipple. At first disbelief and surprise stopped Jackie dead, but the freeze was rechanneled to icy fury. Abruptly standing, she turned, grabbing the boy who'd dare to touch her by his collar and dragging him roughly up. Seconds before her knuckles collided with his face, she recognized the dark haired boy who'd stared at her with such an unnerving grin that morning. Blood slid from his nose as Jackie pulled back her fist. Reaching a hand upwards he touched the stuff, inspecting his red-stained fingers with shock. In the next second his own fist cut up against her jaw, causing teeth to clack roughly together. Shoving him back she brought her fists to eye level, landing a jab first on the left of his face, then another quickly to the right. Balance regained, the boy mimicked her stance, lapping the blood from his upper lip and chin before a smile plastered his face, once again creating that unsettling air about him. By this time the math teacher was at the back of the room, shoving the students away from one another.

He was nearly screaming as he approached the two. "That is quite  _enough_ , Patrick and Jackie!"

 _So that's the asshole's name_ , Jackie mused before the teacher began squawking again. Addressing the room, he informed them that he was going to be escorting the unruly students to the principal's office and if anyone got out of hand during his absence there would be consequences.

As Jackie was yanked along the halls via her arm, a half-smile played along her lips. It hadn't taken long to fall right into the same place she always found herself: in trouble. Only problem was, she hadn't grasped the severity of the trouble confronting Patrick Hockstetter would bring.


	6. Watch Your Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to the principals office, history class and yet another encounter with Patrick, all before lunch.

After the math teacher had returned to his classroom and the situation was explained by Jackie, the principal sat uncomfortably fiddling with a pen. At first she thought it was because he didn't like punishing students or because he was irritated by a transfer acting out on the first day. When she glanced sideways at Patrick and observed the unrelenting scowl he cast at the man before them, a sort of amazement spread over her.

_He's actually scared of Patrick._

This thought had barely passed when the principal finally spoke. "It is unfortunate that your first day here be so violent..."

"Jackie."

"Yes, well, Jackie, it is unfortunate. I will be less hard on you since you're new and your outburst wasn't altogether unprovoked but I think a few detentions are in order. You will attend after school detention today and tomorrow in room 107. You are expected to be there promptly at 2:20 and remain until 3:20. Should you neglect to do so, the result would be further detentions." Jackie did not fail to miss the darting principal's eyes as he avoided looking directly at the dark haired boy. "Mr. Hockstetter, you will be in detention for the rest of the week. Now I expect the two of you to go to your next classes without any more trouble or there will be further repercussions. Erhm, will either of you be requiring a trip to the nurse?"

"I think we'll be just dandy, Mr. Curdow." It wasn't particularly impressive but a chill traveled down Jackie's spine at Patrick's voice. Everything about him disconcerted her.

Awkwardly standing, Mr. Curdow opened the door and hovered beside it, indicating the conclusion of their visit. Jackie stood first, chair screeching across wooden floorboards. Refusing to so much as glance at her peer she exited the room, not altogether unhappy. Her jawline already had purple welts forming but Patrick looked far worse for wear, what with the blood caked down his nose and his swelling eyes, outlined delicately with purple and black. Two days of detention wasn't that bad, all things considered.

Patrick seemed to shadow her as they left the office but silently turned down the first hallway, to her inexorable relief. Not bothering to put her new math book in her locker, Jackie went straight for history. She hoped the teacher wouldn't make the class a complete drag. History was a subject she often enjoyed. Not that she'd ever, in a million years, let anyone know, but some of the books she'd been so fond of at the New York library were plain old history books. She had a particular interest in the medieval Era: the burning of witches, torture devices, the black death, superstitions, and so on, but none of those were focused on much in the classroom. All the history courses she'd taken so far were concentrated on more recent happenings.

The teacher, a headband sitting across her shortly cropped blonde hair, beckoned her over as she entered. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Burke. I'm Ms. Leslie Mann. I look forward to teaching you." Offering a typed sheet to Jackie, she smiled warmly. She was younger and prettier than a lot of teachers Jackie had seen before. Jackie briefly thought that this woman's cynicism for her career choice had yet to reveal itself, judging by how upbeat she looked. "I made this for you, so you'd have an idea of what we've been covering and what we'll be going over in the future. I'm sure it can't be easy to move to a new place when school is already two months in but I would be happy to help you with whatever you need."

Taking the sheet, Jackie offered an erroneous grin. "I had to get out of that old school, y'know? Turns out, when you've stopped nailing your teachers, they start to grade you a lot harder."

Ms. Mann, at a loss for words, only nodded slightly, smile disappearing. Smugly turning, Jackie found a place at the back of the room. She actually did read over the sheet she'd been given. Evidently they'd been covering the great immigration period in America, late 1800s to early 1900s. Slouched in her chair, eyes glued to the desk and appearing particularly bored, anyone would have assumed Jackie wasn't paying attention. Despite her apparent lack of care, she missed none of what was said. Of particular interest during the lesson was the mistreatment of factory workers and the conditions of low income apartments. It was the first bit of school that involved education Jackie found interesting but all too soon the bell was ringing.

Returning to her locker to stash the math and history books, Jackie stuffed them quickly inside and was about to shut the door when a shudder traveled up her spine. Hairs standing on end she felt the faint sense of warm breath against her neck. Surprise was only slight as she turned and found Patrick grinning down at her, face sporting the puffed, black and purple evidence of her dislike for him.

Reaching out one hand to rest against the locker beside Jackie's head, he stuffed the other in his pocket. "I don't think we got off to quite the right start." As he spoke each word was slow and careful, like he was God's gift to the world and every syllable from his mouth needed to be savored by whoever should be lucky enough to hear it.

Jackie matched his leer with an irritated and scorning grimmace. "Generally I don't get off to a good start with people who grope me." He was close, far too close and it was trying her patience.

"I wasn't talking about that." The smile remained on his lips but drained from his eyes as he continued. "I meant we got off to the wrong start because you seem to be under the impression you can just pick a fight with me and get away with it." Now the hand moved from his pocket to slam into the wall beside Jackie's hip. "I'll let it slide just this once because you're new here."

A thousand answers sprung to her mind but she bit them back, choosing her words with care, voice full of a whispered fury. "I'm going to lunch now, so you can move or I can move you. Doesn't really make much of a difference to me."

Patrick became still as a corpse, deciding what to do with the defiance of the girl before him. Biting his lower lip he looked her up and down in amusement. The hand next to her hip lifted to grab her chin but Jackie roughly forced it away, watching the anger flash in Patrick's eyes before it was once again hidden behind his smirk of morbid delight. He shifted a few inches closer before pushing off the lockers, pacing backwards as he continued to stare Jackie down, grin unchanged. Wheels were turning in his head, that was plain enough to her, but he was nearly impossible to read. After a few steps he turned away, sauntering down the emptying hall. As Jackie finally went to go to the cafeteria, she wondered at the fact that not one of the many students passing them just then had even so much as glanced their way. It had been like they couldn't even see what had been happening. Jackie was relatively used to that kind of behavior. People had an uncanny ability to avoid seeing what they didn't want to deal with, to look away from the ugliness in the world and pretend it wasn't there. Even as the thought: _Here is no different_ crossed her mind, some part of her already knew: here it was different. Here it was worse. So, so much worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is kinda short, sorry. I'm going to try to post about every 3-4 days from now on. I'll definitely post on Saturdays and then again on either Tuesday or Wednesday. And the more interesting stuff is coming, I promise! I'm just building up to it. Thank you so much to the people who gave kudos and commented. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	7. Smoke, Bathroom Mirrors, and Spare Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackie witnesses something unsettling and inexplicable in the girl's bathroom before involving herself in yet another confrontation during lunch. At least this time it's because she's defending someone.

Jackie needed a cigarette. The day wasn't even half over and already she was aggravated far beyond simple annoyance. Even given her absurd knack to get into fights she hadn't expected one on the first day. One might assume Maine would be a bit more laid back than New York but her expectations for a peaceful and boring transition had been far off.

Shoving the girls bathroom door open with a bang she rapidly inspected the stalls for inhabitants. Finding none she slunk into the last one, fingers eagerly digging into her jacket's pocket. Brining the camel to her lips she drew out her lighter. Fingers shook slightly as she lit it and inhaled, eyes closing in a sort of euphoria. Tucking the lighter away again she held her hand out, observing its continued trembling.

"What the fuck," Jackie mumbled, more than a little miffed. Her anxieties had been slowly escalating ever since she'd stepped out of dear old Aunt Tabby's car that morning. The incident with Patrick had brought them to a head and now she was having trouble reigning her emotions back. Jackie was scared. Her fear made her feel weak and she  _hated_  to feel weak. Being scared meant she got angry. Rage was easier than panic. Rage gave the power back.

Eyes closing, she leaned against the side of the stall, striving to focus merely on inhaling and exhaling of smoke. Nicotine filling Jackie's lungs, her nerves began to calm, aided by the repetitive motion of brining the stick to her lips, breathing it in, lowering it, and breathing out. As this monotonous gesture wore on her cigarette grew smaller while the ash pile at her feet grew bigger. A few minutes more and the fag was spent.

Exiting the stall it was flicked into the sink. It sizzled slightly as it landed in the bowl, causing her to notice the bowl was filled with water. Hand sliding off the door handle, she walked back down to examine it. Her cigarette vanished below the murky water, somehow not kept afloat by its filter. Rolling up her sleeve, Jackie felt along the bottom to locate whatever was plugging the drain. Other than the butt she felt nothing. Taking it between her fingers she was about to pull it out and just throw it in the trash when it was yanked forcefully downwards. Snapping her arm back she gasped, a spray of dark water flying across the floor. Utter shock and confusion kept her still. As she stared on, the turbid water slowly disappeared down the pipe, a noise slowly building as it did so. Jackie first took it to be the sound of liquid rushing down the duct but as the sink was emptied she realized what she was listening to wasn't water draining but screams, horrible and gurgling. Dread filled her veins as the familiar shrieks echoed through the bathroom, seeming to only grow louder as the sound waves ricocheted across pale tile. Deafening in their intensity, the resonations threatened to overwhelm her. Barely able to move, Jackie side stepped towards the door, afraid to take her eyes off the porcelain fixture. Smoke began to billow up from the drain and with it the smell of burning skin filled Jackie's nostrils. Gagging, she madly dashed for the door, covering her mouth and nose in the crook of her arm. Reaching it she seized the handle, tearing it open to race down the hall. Sneakers thudded across the school's ugly floor tiles as her mind unsuccessfully tried to grasp whatever just happened. Stopping at what felt a reasonably safe range, Jackie turned, looking back slowly, afraid of what she might see. But there was no smoke. No smell of anything burning. No howls of pain from the bathroom. Nothing. Several classrooms were within hearing distance of that lavatory but no one had come to investigate.

"It wasn't real," Jackie breathed. "It wasn't real." But the stink of dirty water covering her hand begged to differ.  _Wasn't real, wasn't real_ , her mind repeated over and over, again and again. Finally, unable to take her own stillness a second more, Jackie spun around, striding to the cafeteria, already buzzing with students. Glancing down at her hand Jackie knew it needed to be cleansed before she could touch anything. There was another ladies bathroom downstairs, closer to the lunchroom. Seeing a few girls go in ahead of her Jackie followed after, reassured by their chatter. Speedily scrubbing palms and fingers she wasted no time, barely taking 30 seconds to wash. This was, of course, a different restroom but all the same... it disquieted her to be there.

Some spare change from her pocket bought a milk, mixed vegetables and a slice of, if you were being very liberal with the term, pizza. Spotting an empty round table Jackie took a seat. Resting an elbow on the surface she propped her head against her hand, dismally picking at rubbery cheese. Before she knew what was happening 3 chairs were pulled out and Jenn, Moira, and a third girl were sitting around her, absorbed in their conversation with one another. None of them paid any attention to Jackie's clear indignation.

"So of course, at that point Chester was freaking out because he thought he'd left it at home, but I..." Moira was saying as Jackie cut her off.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Now they all turned to Jackie before Moira spoke again. "... Sitting. I thought that was pretty obvious."

"But why are you sitting  _here_?"

"We thought you might like people to sit with, being that you're new and all."

A sardonic smile pulled at Jackie's lips. "I don't need anyone to sit with."

"Well doesn't that just make us so much nicer for sitting with you?" Jackie was about to spit out a curt reply but Moira had already turned back to her friends, continuing the discussion. Rolling her eyes in exasperation Jackie resigned herself to her new lunch pals and began eating the disturbingly greasy pizza.

"Oh, uh, this is Cadence by the way. Cadence, this is Jackie, she has gym with Jenn and I. Well, she has homeroom with Jenn also."

Cadence pushed up her spectacles before waving tentatively at the unamused girl in the leather jacket. "Hi."

A barely grumbled greeting dropped from Jackie's mouth as she returned focus to the partially consumed pizza.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a student came up to Jenn, stating, "Mr. Reeves wants to see you," before walking off.

"Jeeze, again? Seems like you're in there all the time. I didn't know you were still so upset about the... I mean I'm not saying you can't still be upset, sometimes it takes certain people longer to get over things, and that's not bad, I mean, when my grandma died, I,"

As Jenn stood Moira abruptly cut off her rambling. "It's fine. See you in science."

She gathered her books to head down the hall and once more Jackie took note of how cautiously the girl carried herself, as though she was made of paper and the slightest breeze could carry her off. Turning to the over-talkative Moria Jackie questioned her. "So what's up with blondie anyway? Her grandma die?"

"No one died. Her dad left her family a few months ago. He just up and left in the middle of the night with a note saying he was going away and not coming back. I think it was seven months ago if you want to be exact. I guess she's still really torn up about it, she goes in to see Mr. Reeves all the time. I try to be sympathetic, y'know? I can relate a little. Only I never knew my dad, he left when I was a baby."

Fearing Moira would go on, Jackie interposed. "Yeah, uh huh, I got it."

Moira looked off awkwardly and it was then that a disruption in the lunch room caught Jackie's ear. Turning her head to scan over her shoulder she recognized the dark haired boy she'd given a chocolate bar to earlier. A much taller, broad shouldered guy with a football jersey had him by the scruff of his shirt. Not unfamiliar to the way she'd grabbed him that morning, Jackie noted with some guilt. Two other boys stood nearby, trays gripped tightly in their hands. Her chair rattled against the floor as she pushed out from the table, making her way over. As she drew closer, the conversation became clearer.

"I'm sorry, okay? It was an accident, I swear!" The boy gasped from his inhaler as he frantically pled with the boy holding his shirt in a death grip.

"I don't give a flying  _fuck_  if it was an accident, you little turd, because either way I've got food all over my shirt."

One of the younger boys standing nearby interjected. "It's an improvement, that shirt wasn't doing you any favors." Both the boy being held by the football player and the curly haired boy standing next to him shot a warning glance at the one who'd made the quip, willing him to be quiet.

Threateningly jabbing a finger at him, the jock warned, "Can it, trash mouth, or you'll be next," before refocusing on the kid in front of him. "Now, Eddie, what're you gonna do to fix the mess you've made?" As the bully released him, Eddie began vigorously digging through his pockets, pulling out loose change and a few crumpled bills. "You two as well." He motioned for the others to follow Eddie's example.

Just before they had a chance to hand any money over, Jackie stepped in front of Eddie, facing the larger student, arms confidently folded. "Keep your money where it is."

Quarters and wadded dollar bills in hand, they looked between the new girl, sturdy and self-assured, and the muscled meathead, unsure who to listen to.

"And who the fuck are you?" Meathead smiled derisively as he looked Jackie up and down, hands resting on his hips as he loomed over her.

Slipping her fingers through the cold metal in her jacket pocket, Jackie surreptitiously pulled out the brass knuckles, each circlet studded, making sure the athlete noticed. "I'm the girl who's going to put you in the hospital if you don't leave these kids alone." It may have been overkill, sure, but Jackie was in a shitty mood; she wasn't looking to be underestimated again.

Sneering, he held up his arms in a mocking surrender. "These little assholes aren't worth it anyway." He walked off in a huff, throwing a 'crazy bitch' over his shoulder as he headed to the bathroom, probably to wash his sullied clothes.

One of the boys called after him. "Remember, wisk is your friend!"

"Shut up, Richie!"

"Wisk?" Jackie addressed the boy who seemed unable to keep from making sassy remarks. She now noticed that he wore huge glasses, giving his eyes a comically large appearance.

"Yeah, you know, the detergent, wisk."

Eddie glared at Richie before turning back to look at their savior. "Thanks."

"Told you I owed you one."

Richie piped up again, his voice taking on a truly terrible British accent. "I'm Richard Tozier and this good fellow beside me is Stan the Man Uris. It would appear you've already met our little Edward." At this last comment he pinched Eddie's cheek.

"Lay off Richie!"

Still speaking in an atrocious English intonation, the boy with glasses continued. "And what might your name be, most fair rescuer?"

Unable to stop herself, a smile turned up the corner of her mouth. "Jackie."

"What a beautiful name, a marvelous name indeed!" Nearly spilling all contents of his tray onto the floor, Richie bowed low. "Would the lady care to join us in the AV room for lunch?"

Still grinning she answered in a monotone. "Oh my, what a tempting offer, but I'll have to pass."

It looked as though he was about to go on but the curly haired boy elbowed him in the ribs. "Let's  _go_  Richie."

"Okay, okay, you don't gotta be so rough Stan, who do you think I am, Jesus?"

Jackie watched the three exit the cafeteria with an amused grin. She was still smiling about the whole incident as the bell rang and she left for her next class.


	8. Game On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Detention, the music store, and the park.

Much as she was loathe to admit it, Jackie was dreading detention. Dealing with Patrick had left her feeling disconcerted. Knowing she could hold her own against him was comforting but there was something about him, something boiling just below the surface, putrid and hideous. If necessary, she would beat the piss out of the lanky creep, but taking him on in another fist fight would likely breed more problems, especially given the troublemakers she'd seen him walk into school with that morning. 

Leaving her books and homework in her locker, Jackie went to room 107 carrying exactly as much as she'd entered the school with, minus one Hershey bar. When the clock clicked to 2:20 Jackie was just sitting down, unwrapping a snickers. The teacher had his feet propped on the desk, absorbed in a book, seemingly indifferent to what the students did so long as they were quiet. Two other boys sat nearby, appearing quite bored themselves. No Patrick. Just as Jackie was beginning to hope he was going to be a no-show, in he strolled through the open door. 

Not even glancing up from his copy of Animal Farm, the teacher welcomed the late-comer. “Ah, arriving just when I was expecting you. How very punctual you are Mr. Hockstetter. Always a pleasure to see you in detention.”

Ignoring this comment Patrick’s eyes met Jackie's, his lips curling up into a smirk as he paced to take a seat directly behind her. Teeth grinding Jackie stuffed the partially eaten candy back inside her bag. To change desks was out of the question, he would likely see it as weakness, as though she was backing down. Jackie didn't back down. She hadn't backed down from anything or anyone since she was 11 years old. Things with Patrick would be no different. Still, she was painfully aware of every second that ticked by; the long, red hand of the clock accosted her ears like dripping water as it marked the passage of time. Muscles became strained as she waited for his fingers to grope at her again, ready to beat him back once more if necessary. But the whole hour passed without so much as a sound from the boy behind her. As the watch on the teacher’s wrist alerted him it was 3:20 he dismissed the students. Patrick sprang up so quick his desk came close to toppling over, followed shortly by the other two boys. 

“Jackie, a word.” The teacher beckoned her, glancing at the door to make sure no one had lingered. Slinging her pack over her shoulder she trudged forward, wondering what this could possibly be about. Leaning towards her conspiratorially, he asked, “You're in detention for clocking Hockstetter, correct?” She nodded, curious as to where this was going. “And the reason you got into a fight with him was because he was feeling you up, right?” Another nod confirmed this. Placing his book inside a satchel and slinging the strap over his shoulder, a smile edged the corners of his lips up. “If you were to, say, not show up for detention tomorrow, I don't think anyone would notice your absence. And if anyone were to inquire as to whether or not you attended detention, you and I would assure them you had, in fact, been here.”

Understanding what he meant, Jackie offered a crooked grin. “Of course.”

Letting Jackie walk out ahead of him he switched off the classroom’s light before locking the door behind them. “Don't think this kind of thing will happen every time. I’m expecting you to stay out of trouble from now on, okay?”

Jackie only scoffed and rolled her eyes. 

“Yeah, that's what I figured,” he mumbled, heading towards the back of the school and the faculty parking lot. 

Removing the half-finished snickers from her backpack she made her way out the front doors, greeted by a warm summer breeze. “What a long fuckin’ day.” Trotting down the cement steps she headed towards the canal bridge, without any particular destination in mind. Stride almost giddy in the excitement at being out of that horrid building, she failed to notice the tall figure following a half dozen paces behind her. 

Carelessly tossing the candy wrapper to the ground Jackie made her way into a music store. It looked promising enough. Posters of a few of her favorite bands adorned several walls throughout the inside. Browsing over records she wondered if her great aunt had a turntable or something of the sort. It seemed likely she did but Jackie moved over to the cassettes. Stepping out from behind the store’s main desk the clerk made his way over. 

As he leaned against a shelf nearby, she caught him looking her up and down from her vision’s edge. “Searching for anything in particular?” 

Examining a Metallica tape in unnecessary thoroughness she replied with a terse: “Just browsing” before wandering further down the aisle. As she plucked ‘Licensed to Ill’ from the rack she noticed the clerk had moved with her. Placing the album back she looked straight ahead, then let out an exasperated huff and turned to the music store worker. “You afraid I'm gonna steal or something?” 

Raising an eyebrow as he leered, he offered a crooked smirk. He had obviously decided to ignore her question and instead asked his own. “How come I haven't seen you around here before?”

Jackie glared the man down as she spoke. “Mmm, well, see, there's this new policy at the Asylum, at least three hours out in the town for good behavior. I've gotta be getting back pretty soon though, don't want to get into trouble.”

“You don't strike me as the type of girl who avoids trouble.” The way he said this made Jackie's veins pulse with wintery anger. Reaching across her he grabbed the Beastie Boys album she'd just put back. “Tell you what, I'll give you this first tape free since you're a new customer.” He offered it to her but instead of taking it she crossed her arms.

“And?”

“And all you have to do is give me your number in return.”

Jackie rolled her eyes in the most exaggerated way she could manage. “How old do you think I am?” The clerk looked to be at least 30, possibly older. 

His friendly facade dropped instantly. “Hey, all I asked for was your number, okay? Don't be so conceited.”

Sucking her teeth Jackie chuckled mirthlessly. “Yeah, well, if you want my number why don't you call the Asylum and ask for jailbait.” With that she turned to leave.

Irritated at being dismissed he yelled after her. “Fuck you! Dumb bitch.”

She laughed at that. “You're the second person to call me a bitch today.”

Stepping back into the sunlight Jackie sighed. Hopefully the mall had a music store. Or at least maybe the workers rotated often at this one. Not wanting to go home quite yet and not having money to do anything worth doing Jackie headed down to a park she knew to be at least somewhat close by. Placing her backpack down on a bench she used it as a pillow, laying across the seat and resting an arm over her face. Like a cat sunning itself, she was comfortable in the warm glow of the late afternoon. Comfortable enough, in fact, to fall into a light sleep. Comfortable enough to take no notice of the spindly figure striding up to her, pausing as his shadow fell across her torso. As was the case with many of the animals he captured, Patrick was surprised by how much prey could let its guard down. Of course he'd never pursued prey like this before, prey that could challenge him, yell at him, fight back with a chance of winning… prey that had long, slender legs, tits and juicy lips. Reaching out a hand he almost ran a finger over her mouth before thinking better of it. He wanted this hunt to last. He needed to move slowly, to show restraint. It was a game he was going to draw out and savor. 

“See you around, Jackie,” he whispered as he strode away, more excited than he'd been in ages. What fun this was going to be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one. Next chapter is pretty juicy though.


	9. Cat and Mouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue cars and stalkers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last part of this chapter is, ugh, graphic and could possibly be classified as disturbing, so... viewer discretion is advised. >_> I re-wrote the last part of this about 30 times, I still don't know how I feel about it. Also sometimes I wonder if some of my descriptions help set up the scene or if they end up being too much and kind of lose the reader, so feedback about that would be greatly appreciated! Hope you enjoy!

Startled by a honking car Jackie sat up, wondering what time it was. She had just barely slipped off into a doze. Rubbing her forehead she glanced around. As an elderly man passed by she stood to speak to him. “You have the time?” 

Lifting his glasses he brought a wrist watch to his scrunched up face, examining it before answering. “It's four sixteen young lady.” 

Taking her back pack she started off down the street, heading towards the main part of town. Coming up with nothing else to do she decided it was time to return to her great Aunt's house. Maybe she could set her amplifier and guitar up in the garage, get some practice in before supper. Heading down Kansas Street Jackie was just passing the Costello Avenue Market when a car parked along the street caught her eye. Sunlight was glinting blindingly off the shiny blue metal of a trans am. Scott knew all there was to know about cars, his ‘profession’ required him to. Jackie only knew enough to hot wire one and whether or not a part was worth salvaging, but she loved any car that looked good. With a quick glance to the left and right she ran a finger across the hood, letting out a low whistle. “Hell if I know if it runs well but damn this is a hot car,” she mumbled under her breath.

“She runs as good as she looks.”

Unable to stop herself Jackie started at the unexpected voice coming from just behind her. Gathering herself she casually turned around. “She yours?”

The boy in front of her was sturdily built, large but not really fat with broad shoulders.  _ Not bad looking _ , she noted mildly. 

Inserting a key in the passenger door he unlocked it to toss a pack of cigars onto the back seat. “Yeah, she's mine. You know cars?”

This question brought a bark of laughter from Jackie. “I know when they look good.”

He paused a moment, unsure if he wanted to go on with whatever he was about to say. “... Where you headed?”

Giving the boy a coy side eye, she answered very matter-of-factly. “Harris Avenue, out by Strawford Park.”

Grinning in an infectious manner he opened the passenger door wider. “Want a lift?”

Lithly sliding by him Jackie went to go in before stopping. Voice filled with mock-innocence, she stated, “My mother said not to take rides from strangers.”

Leaning forward across the door between them his minty breath ghosted over her face. “You always listen to your mother?”

“Not since I was six.”

He moved around to the driver's side and Jackie dropped into the seat, slamming the door. 

“Hey, easy, easy.”

“What, afraid your car will fall apart?” 

Without taking his eyes off her he turned the key, testing the gas pedal. The whole car vibrated with the power of the roaring engine. Low and thrumming, the sound filled Jackie's ears. 

“Hope you like Anthrax,” he said as he tucked a cassette into the player. Aftershock _ ,  _ a song Jackie was quite familiar with, blasted over the speakers as the emergency brake released. She thought maybe she heard him say, ‘ _ Hold on. _ ’ There was just enough time to grip the door's handle before wheels screeched across tarmac. Cutting off a car coming up the way he raced down Kansas Street. The needle ticked past 40 miles per hour… 45… 50… 55… Heart beating deliciously fast she grinned wildly. Warehouses flashed by, a few people glared, some shook fists, a number even yelled, flipping the teenagers off. Another car pulled out in front of them as the trans am was pushing 60. Jerking the steering wheel, he crossed the double yellow to get around it, nearly hitting an oncoming car before flying back onto the right side of the road. Slowing down only slightly, he took the upcoming turn from Kansas onto Center Street at a ludicrous 42 miles per hour. Rubber burned across the road as the gears shifted; Jackie wondered for a moment if the car would simply skid into the buildings at her side. But the vehicle was successfully navigated onto the next road. Whoever this guy was, he knew what he was doing. 

A giddy fear consumed Jackie as the car continued to charge down Center Street. Adrenaline electrified her veins as the machine rumbled, spurred by the music threatening to break her eardrums. A few more times he dashed onto the wrong side of the road to pass a car ahead of them. Several green lights flashed overhead before they neared one just turning yellow. Adjusting the stick he sped forward, clearly planning to go through it. Seconds before reaching the intersection the traffic signal shon red. No other cars had even had a chance to move by the time the trans am flew past. As Harris Avenue neared he finally began to slow. 

Taking the right turn at a moderate pace Jackie directed him. “Just a little further,” she shouted over the music. Aunt Tabitha’s house came into view and she pointed. Lowering the volume as they came to a stop he looked over to Jackie, a cocky smile giving him a devilishly handsome appearance. 

Shrugging her shoulders dismissively Jackie relented. “She runs as good as she looks.”

Just as she was about to pull the door handle he finally introduced himself. “I'm Reggie, by the way, but everyone calls me Belch.” 

“Nice to meet you, Belch.” As she closed the door behind her he leaned across the center console, calling after her through the car’s open window. “What's your name?”

Turning, she walked backwards, smiling as she stated, “I'll tell you the next time we run into each other!” before jogging inside. Peeking through the front door's curtain she watched him rev the engine before shooting off down the street again. “Not bad, not bad.” Jackie had been beginning to fear every guy in town was crazy, ugly or too old for her but the encounter with Belch had given some small measure of hope. As of yet she was unaware of how ironic this thought was. Not only was the boy who’d given her a ride one of the worst bullies in school, he was also a friend to Patrick, her new least favorite person.

 

A few hours later Tabitha found Jackie in her room, lying in bed with her headphones blaring Burning a Sinner by Witchfinder General. Calling to her did no good so she ambled nearer, gently touching her grand niece's shoulder. Glancing over she lowered the headset and sat up. 

“Sorry to disturb you but I just wanted to check in and see how things were.”

“Fine.” 

Jackie went to put the headphones back on before Tabitha tentatively spoke again. “I'm making a roast for supper, I hope that's alright.”

“Whatever, doesn't matter to me.” 

Again the headphones were raised to be placed over her ears, and again Tabitha interrupted. “I forgot to mention this to you before, maybe you've already seen the signs at school, but there's a curfew here at 7.”

Resting the headset against her ears Jackie layed down again. “Okay.” Muffled sounds of music buzzed from beneath the ear pads and Tabitha left, shutting the door behind her. 

When the old woman had learned her favorite nephew and his wife died in a house fire, her devastation had been complete. She hadn't even found out about it until 3 years after the fact. She was told Jackie was with Raymond but no matter how often she'd tried, attempts to reach the young girl were fruitless. The ringing of the other line always went unanswered. Jackie had been told by her uncle, accompanied by a good deal of punches, that she was never to use the phone and never to answer it. Of course there was no machine to record messages either. Eventually Tabitha despaired of ever seeing her niece again. Years passed and her mind dulled with each one. After a stroke in 1984, doctor's visits and medical bills consumed all her time and mental faculties. When the call from the social worker had come the other day, it had taken her a moment to remember who Jackie was. But then it all came back: Jackie, her parents, the two and a half years they'd spent with Tabitha and her husband of the time right after Jackie had been born. Whatever she'd expected her grand-niece to be when she re-entered the house after nearly 15 years, a sarcastic, jaded teenager was far from it. Guilt had filled her then for not doing more, not trying harder to find her. Bethany had briefly recounted the horrifying tales of Jackie's upbringing but Tabitha could hardly stomach hearing it. Whenever something too unpleasant came along her eyes and mind would glaze over, providing blissful ignorance and comforting forget. Already she barely recalled whatever it was the social worker had told her. Jackie was a teenager and teenagers were moody, that was all. Having no memories of the years spent at Tabitha’s home was understandable. Being two years old when she'd left, that result could only be expected. 

 

No matter how many times Jackie tried, her thoughts simply wouldn't leave her alone. First days were often eventful but today had been ridiculously full. Out of everything that had occurred, being befriended by two girls was what shocked her most. Well, maybe befriended wasn't right, who knew how they would act tomorrow or the day after.  _ They'll probably decide they don't like me in a few days, a few weeks at most _ . Moira’s insistence that she and her friends sit with Jackie had been irritating. If Jackie needed friends, which she assured herself she  _ didn't _ , she certainly didn't need friends like them. This idea was oddly comforting and the swirling of thoughts began to slow. Turning on the bed she saw the clock read 7:42. Jackie took a cigarette from her jacket, hung on the desk chair, and stepped onto her room's modest balcony. Not noticing the balcony upon her arrival or the morning after, it had been a pleasant surprise when she had gotten home from school, seeing it after glancing out the window facing the backyard. Now she leaned against the railing of the small veranda. Delicate pink colored the sky while the sun sank behind the horizon, taking its luminescence to shine on another part of the world. Lighter flicked open, Jackie lit her camel and let her lungs draw in the poisoned smoke. Suddenly, something caught her attention down in the yard's long-unmowed grass. Whatever it was, it was small enough to remain unseen in the undergrowth. 

Curious and ready to investigate, Jackie took hold of a sturdy looking branch which hung close enough to grab and shimmied down the back yards only tree. Sitting in a crouch she watched the grass shift as whatever the thing was moved closer. Green blades of grass stilled for a few minutes, leaving the yard eerily quiet. Without warning a cat sprang from its cover, pouncing atop one of her shoelaces and batting it furiously. Coat matted and body skinny, this feline was easily identifiable as a stray. Instead of the tail it should have had, only a nub poked above its hind legs, twitching now and again. Jackie reached out a hand for the animal to sniff before scratching between its ears. Deep purrs resonated from its chest while it leaned into her touch. 

“If you stick around I'll give you some roast for dinner,” she cooed. “Where did you come from, huh? You don't look like you belong to anyone either.” Growing still, the cat suddenly became wide-eyed, looking into the tall grass hungrily. Turning its back to her, the creature faced the green yard, rear-end wiggling as it prepared to leap. This gave Jackie a clear view of the things hind-quarters. Hairs had been singed away, leaving the rear a bare pink. Jackie watched the tabby cat chase some kind of rodent through the thick grass, unaware that she herself was being watched. 

Patrick stood in the small patch of woods at the edge of Tabitha’s property, his tall body tucked behind a cluster of vine filled trees. One hand rested against the side of a chestnut, the other was stuffed into his boxers, feverishly massaging his stiff cock as Jackie sat there, utterly unaware of his presence. Within his mind's eye he could see her in front of him as she'd been just before lunch earlier in the day, that defiant look lighting up her brown eyes. In this daydream his left hand took hold of her throat, fingers fanning out as they tightened. The other slid underneath her shirt and bra to grope at her chest, calloused thumb stroking her nipple as he leaned into her. Pupils widening, she felt his erection against her thigh as he brought his right leg up between hers. And there was the delicious panic rising in her eyes as her airway was constricted. Her nails raked over the flesh of his arm as she desperately tried to claw her way out of his wiry grasp. Thin tendrils of his blood slid down to drizzle onto the floor; flecks of his skin clustered under Jackie's nails. A whispered scream for help contorted her face as tears fell. Taking advantage of her open mouth his tongue plunged in, rhythmically masassing Jackie's as he groaned into her, pinching her nipple hard enough to elicit a muffled cry of pain from her. At first she resisted but oxygen deprivation left her weak. Now he planted his legs on either side of Jackie, hips moving up and down against her as she began whimpering. His dominant hand left her breast to grip her hip, angling to better drive himself against her. Even in his fantasy Patrick could hear the friction of their jeans rubbing together. Removing himself from her tongue his mouth advanced to the space where her jaw met her ear, sucking on soft skin as he continued choking the life out of her. Another stifled moan issued from her lips as she breathed his name, desperately begging to be let go. Thrusting feverishly against the material that separated her cunt from his dick Patrick sucked her plump lower lip between his teeth, letting out an uneven, animalistic sound. Only he didn't just cry out in his imagination. He'd groaned aloud. Eyes quickly refocusing on the real Jackie he stood stock still while his fantasy faded. Jackie's brows furrowed as she glanced around, apprehensive. Squinting into the distance she stood, tramping out the cigarette beneath her heel. Slender hands took hold of jutting branches as she scrambled up the trunk, wrapping her strong legs around the tree's base. Observing her body flex and twist up the tree as she ascended was giving Patrick all sorts of dirty thoughts. Eventually she dropped unceremoniously onto the balcony, re-entering what he assumed to be her room. Zipping his pants up he tucked his stiff member as best he could before heading back the way he'd come.

_ You can get into her room by climbing the tree,  _ he thought, a twisted grin stretching ear to ear. _ Good to know _ . 


	10. Fight For Your Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackie discovers who Belch's friends are and is invited to a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look up Tina S on YouTube if you want some examples of how I imagine Jackie to play. Also, Tina S rules.

Her first day had been a minefield of bad circumstances but the rest of the week went much more smoothly for Jackie. The hours before lunch flew by without leaving any sort of impression, melding together in one boring blur. Moira, Jenn and the other girl, Cadence, continued to sit with her during the midday meal break. Sometimes Moira would attempt to include Jackie in whatever they were discussing. Never getting more than a few monosyllabic grunts from the new girl didn't discourage her in the least. Friday had rolled around quickly enough but it only served to remind Jackie she had yet to tap into the party circuit, assuming there even  _ was _ one. Her lunch pals didn't seem the type to be invited to parties and never discussed anything of the sort so they were, of course, no help at all. 

 

Chairs skidded across the floor of the science room as the last bell of the day called through the building that school was out. Jackie shoved past several classmates to be the first out the door. Even for her that lesson had been mind-numbingly boring. Attempts at keeping herself distracted or occupied had failed, so for 50 minutes she'd fought the urge to bolt outside and start her weekend early. Ramming her backpack into the locker she slammed the door forcefully, seething at the world around her. At the very moment she was stomping down the east hallway Henry Bowers caught sight of her. Involuntarily, his eyes slid down her back to her rear-end as he followed just behind. After learning about what happened with Patrick he had grown all the more interested in the new girl. Patrick was an idiot, sometimes Henry wanted to deck the moron himself, but in a nearly subconscious way, he knew a girl beating up one of the ‘bowers gang,’ as people called them, wasn't doing their reputation any favors. Didn't matter that she was new or that she wasn't a guy. As far as he was concerned, anyone who crossed any member of their group needed to be put in their place, one way or another. Making a quick dash forward and pushing a few kids out of the way he matched her pace. 

Standing as upright as he could he turned to look at her while they walked side by side. “You're new here.”

Barely deigning to glance over Jackie scoffed. “Wow, how  _ observant _ . What do you want from me captain obvious, a medal? Piss off.”

Unlike Patrick, Henry's anger flowed freely, and unlike Patrick he nearly always indulged it, never bothering to keep it in check or assess whether it was appropriate. Taking a handful of her jacket in his fist he pulled her aside, hissing through clenched teeth. “I'm sure you were the queen bitch back where you came from but you don't run things here. We do.”

Raising both eyebrows Jackie looked dubiously to the left and right, unimpressed by his outburst. “We?”

Henry’s face screwed up into a taunting sneer. “Me and my friends, so steer clear.” Now his face devolved into a predatory, lustful appraisal as his scrutinizing stare racked up and down her body. He moved himself closer to her, not close enough to be touching but near enough to feel his breath across her cheeks. “Unless you got something to offer, that is.” 

Disdainfully knocking his grip off her clothing she fixed him with her most withering look. “Word of advice? If you want to be intimidating, invest in some lifting weights, cause what you got going on right now isn't really impressing me. And this next one's just a free piece of criticism but you should consider investing in a toothbrush.”

Henry's ire boiled up at these words. He was just clenching a fist in preparation to strike when a teacher, noticing the little scene, called out to him. “Mr. Bowers, a word!”

“This ain't over. I'll be seeing you around.” 

Before he turned to the instructor walking towards them, Jackie leaned into his side, one of her breasts just barely pressing into his upper arm. Her breathy whisper tickled his ear as it ghosted across the skin there. “You look so  _ cute _ when you're mad.” She abruptly sauntered off down the hall as Henry’s face grew red. 

Jackie snatched a cigarette from her jacket’s leather pocket, putting it to her lips as she continued out the doors. Pausing at the bottom of the steps, face screwed up in concentration, she had just tried for the third time to set her camel aflame when a familiar voice called out to her. 

“Need a light?” Leaning against the hood of his flawlessly blue car, Belch grinned at her from the curb. 

“If it isn't my good friend: Burp.” The cigarette moved up and down between her grinning lips as she spoke. Making her way over Jackie held her smoke between her teeth with two fingers, waiting for him to ignite it. Producing his own lighter he held the flame to the cigarette as she inhaled. 

“So?” He questioned expectantly as his lighter clicked shut. 

Blowing a trail of smoke over her shoulder she gave him a quizzical look, as though she had no idea what he wanted to know. “So… what?”

“So, I believe you promised to give me your name the next time we met.”

She took another drag before answering. “Jackie. No bodily function for a nickname, hope that's alright with you.”

His only answer to that was a long and low burp. 

“You must be  _ such _ a hit with the ladies,” she teased. “That's a real talent there, you put it on your resumes?” 

“Under ‘special skills’.”

Jackie rolled her eyes, chuckling. “What are you doing here anyway? You go here?”

“Nah, I dropped out a year and a half ago. Didn't see much point flunking high school when I could be earning money.”

“Oh, I hear that. Some days I feel like I need a lobotomy just to make myself walk through school doors.”

Belch was about to respond when a finger roughly prodded Jackie’s back. “We didn't finish our little talk.”

She turned to glare at Henry, flicking ash onto the pavement in an aggravated manner. “Christ, you again? Already? I'm trying to have a conversation here.”

Tilting his head to glance over Jackie's shoulder Henry nodded to his friend, still sitting on the hood of the trans am. “Belch.”

Reggie returned the nod. “Henry.”

She rubbed her eyes with her free hand. “For fuck’s sake, please tell me you're not friends with the mullet.”

A cheerless laugh sprung from Belch's mouth. “I'm friends with the mullet.”

“I asked you not to tell me that.” Jackie groaned under her breath. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she spat. “I'm going home. I'm sure I'll see you chuckle heads later.”

Henry's eyes bored into her back as she marched off. Victor, the other member of the Bowers gang, bleached hair glinting in the sunlight, jogged up to his friends, noticing their glances following a girl with a black jacket. “What's…” he began but Henry cut him off. 

“Get in the car.” Not daring to question further, both Belch and Vic obeyed. As the trans am roared past Jackie an arm popped out the window to flip her off.

“Fuck you too, asshole!” she yelled after Henry, returning the gesture, but she knew he didn’t hear. Belch had seemed nice enough, but she didn't care for the company he kept. 

Jackie took her time getting home since there wasn't much to get home to. When she arrived her great aunt was nowhere to be found. Briefly searching for a note or any indication of where she'd gone yielded nothing. For the first time the house was empty of all but her. Moseying upstairs she decided it was finally time to set up her guitar and amplifier in the garage; that would keep boredom from driving her crazy for at least a little while. Besides, she'd missed the feeling of the weighty instrument hung across her. Not having been in the garage at all earlier that week, Jackie was annoyed to find how crowded it was. “Old people sure love their useless shit,” she reflected dismally. Dusty knick-knacks, old and chipped dinnerware, busted furniture, tools, holiday decorations, and piles upon piles of books monopolized the floor space. Much of it was boxed away and somewhat moveable. Only there was nowhere to move it to. Clicking the door opener Jackie picked her way over the various piles of junk and began shoving whatever she could outside. 

A few minutes later and enough space had been made for herself and the amplifier. Cord stuck into an outlet nearby Jackie plugged the jack into the electric guitar. With a sizzling hum it came to life. Strumming against the strings the calloused tips of her fingers began to slowly jump across the neck as she warmed up. Gradually the pace quickened. Jackie's hands danced through the notes in rapid succession, the electric pulse of the music causing her heart to beat faster. The harsh melody boomed through the still open garage door with satisfying intensity. Perfectly consumed with playing Jackie melted into a world all her own. It was a world where there was just her and the music she made. Thirty minutes passed like this but in Jackie's perception time glided by. As she finally ceased it was like her consciousness was floating back down to earth from a higher place of being. Sudden clapping almost startled her out of her skin. Glancing down the driveway she noticed someone standing there, watching her. 

“Holy  _ shit _ dude, that's the best I've ever heard anyone play.” A wide smile unfurled across his lips. “Fucking  _ hell _ that was sick.” 

“I know.” Unslinging and unplugging the guitar, Jackie looked the handsome stranger up and down, taking note of his muscled arms and broad shoulders with apparent indifference. 

“So, are you in a band or anything?” 

Carefully setting her guitar against an old dresser she begrudgingly turned to him, but all she offered was a trite, ‘No’ before heading back through the garage’s piles to the door leading into the house. 

Stepping from the sidewalk onto the driveway he called out again. “Well, if you'd be interested in being in one, you should come check out the band I'm in. We're playing at a party tonight.” That last part, he saw, had most definitely gotten her attention. 

Pausing with her hand hovering over the garage door remote, she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Where?”

Taking this as an invitation he moved further onto the property, stopping just before actually entering the garage. “It's at a farm house down past Witcham and route two, on Applegate Road. The house number's 468. There's a giant red truck rusting in the front yard by a willow tree. Starts at 9, me and the band’ll be playing around 10.”

As Jackie clicked the garage door’s button and it started lowering, she shrugged. “Maybe.” Not wanting to lug the musical equipment back upstairs she decided its new place would be the garage rather than her closet. Plunking down onto her bed to read Jackie quickly found she was too agitated to keep still. The thought of going to a party excited her too much. Oddly enough, her own excitement annoyed her. Much as she wanted to be aloof to the whole situation, aloofness was proving to be impossible. Whoever that guy had been, he was attractive, way more handsome than she really wanted to admit to herself. He was in a band too; that could be interesting.  _ God I hope he's a drummer _ , she thought to herself as she descended the stairs. His muscles certainly pointed to him being a drummer. Stepping out the front door so she could walk around town to get out some energy, Jackie found herself rather cheerful.  _ Looks like today's going to be a lot more interesting than I thought _ . This was true, but Jackie had no idea just how much more interesting that night was going to be for her. 


	11. To Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackie rules at Beer Pong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saturday update? I don't know her.

Not having a ride to the party was unfortunate but it wasn't unreasonably far to walk by Jackie's standards. Though fall was nearing the nights were still fairly warm. When she was about halfway there sweat was beginning to stick to the inside of her leather jacket. Boots clomped along loose gravel as the landscape rapidly entered more rural territory. At the same time Jackie had passed the intersection of route 2 and Witcham Street a sputtering car rolled up beside her. Clouds of smoke curled out as the driver turned the window down. 

“You heading to the Jacobs party?”

She hadn't ever been given a name of the event host by the guy who had invited her. Still, she judged the likelihood of there being two big keggers going on at the same time in bum-fuck Maine to be low. “Yeah.”

The driver’s red, dilated eyes darted to the back seat before turning to Jackie again. “Want a ride?”

The back window lowered and two heads popped out. One of them, a girl, smiled stupidly as she motioned Jackie in, nearly dropping her joint as she did so. “Yeah, come ride with us.”

Yanking the door, somewhat stuck to the frame, Jackie slid into the seat as the others shuffled over. Overpowering and pungent, the stench of reefer filled her lungs. 

The boy in the passenger's seat turned around to scrutinize her. “Heeey, you're that new girl, Jack.”

“It's Jackie, and yeah.”

“Alriiiiight.” The boy on the far side of the back seat leaned across the girl separating him from Jackie. “Nice to formally make your acquaintance. It's a pleasure to meet you.” He offered his hand for her to shake but she pushed it aside. 

“The pleasure’s all yours.” Jackie was a bit surprised when the car erupted with fits of laughter from the others and whispers of, ‘Ooooo.’ 

The driver glanced to her through the rear view mirror. “Don't mind our Danny boy, he's just really enthusiastic about the ladies.”

“So,” the girl who Danny had leaned across shoved him off as she addressed Jackie. “As Aaron said, this is Danny, I'm Emily, in the passenger seat is Trevor, our chauffeur is Aaron and I'm Emily.” She offered her roach to Jackie. “Want a hit?”

“Fuck yeah, I was worried this town would be bare.” As she sucked the smoke into her lungs the car began to slow. Even at a distance shouts could be heard echoing into the night from the house as they approached. Sure enough, the willow tree and red truck marked this as the party she'd been told about. Clusters of cars were strewn haphazardly across the property. Aaron added his own to the mass and everyone piled out. 

Trevor suddenly turned to Jackie as they neared the house, squinting ever so slightly. “Oh, hey, Jack, I heard you beat up Hockstetter. Is that true?” 

For some reason the notion of being discussed throughout the school hadn't quite occurred to her before but she liked the idea of her reputation preceding her. “It wasn't a full blown fight but I got a few good hits in.” 

“Nice. That kid had it coming, man. He's a fuckin’ creep.”

Emily appeared at her shoulder, puffing smoke in a trail from her nostrils. “You should steer clear of them. Patrick and his friends I mean. There's nothing but trouble if you get involved with those delinquents. Staying off their radar is better, trust me.”

Rolling her eyes Jackie turned to Emily. “Look, I grew up in New York fucking City, okay? No offense, but a couple of country bumpkins really don't scare me.”

Arms raised defensively the other girl shrugged. “It's your funeral.”

Greetings were shouted to Aaron and his posse as the four of them approached the farmhouse with Jackie in tow. Already sounds of a band playing reached her ears. It wasn't until stepping onto the wrap-around porch that Jackie identified the song: Into the Coven by Mercyful Fate. Brushing past the stoners Jackie entered the crowded residence. Pushing and shoving appeared the only way to get around as no one seemed capable of paying any attention to who or what was around them. Following quite a bit of jostling Jackie found herself in the kitchen, which proved to be even more packed. Cases of beer and two kegs stood in a corner while a few liquor bottles decorated the kitchen’s tiled island with various snacks and soda nearby. Uncapping the rum and a bottle of cola in rapid succession she grabbed the neck of the rum pitcher and chugged a few mouthfuls before downing a sizeable portion of the soda. Some tears slid down her face and she nearly gagged but she was used to that. Jackie slammed both bottles down, throat burning and headed towards the living room. Multitudes of teenagers were slamming against one another in time to the rock and roll. Her assumption about the boy who had invited her had been correct: he was in fact the drummer. Sweat ran down his face as he slammed his drumsticks against the instrument at a dizzyingly fast pace. His skill stood out sharply against the others he played with. Not long after entering the room she began to feel the tingling in her limbs and head as the alcohol took effect. Watching a guitarist far less capable than herself detracted somewhat from the overall enjoyment. Despite this they did alright for themselves and the song selection was exactly her style. Soon after entering the living room Jackie joined the moshing pit, banging into those around her as she jumped in time to the song. Witching Hour by Venom was last on the playlist and as the final note reverberated in the rooms cheers went up from the drunken crowd. Spotting Jackie, the drummer stepped around the musical equipment to greet her. 

A smile spread onto his face as he shouted to her over the din. “You came.” 

“Yeah, well, my other plans fell through.”

A stereo came to life at full volume to replace the band. Drummer boy nodded towards the kitchen and Jackie followed. Pouring herself a rum and coke she leaned against the counter, eyeing him as he grabbed a beer. 

“Y’know, I don't believe we ever gave each other our names. I’m Logan.”

“Jackie.”

“Well, Jackie, what'd you think of us?”

Shrugging dismissively she took a long sip of her drink. 

“Oh, c’mon, I know the guitarist is nowhere near your level but we were pretty good.”

Gazing into his dark green eyes she relented. “Okay, you guys were  _ pretty _ good. Even I have to admit you did all right. Song selection was excellent, by the way.”

Logan was about to say something but found himself interrupted by someone dashing in and yelling ‘Beer Pong!’ before sprinting back out. 

Motioning the way the announcer had just run Logan raised one brow. “You up to play?”

Chugging the remainder of her mostly full cup of rum and coke Jackie nodded. “Let's go.”

Back in the front room a table with beer filled cups had already been erected. People were clamoring for a spot in the game but Jacob, the party's host, was choosing who'd get to go first. Spotting Logan he motioned him over along with Jackie. “Well if it isn't the front man for Republic of Scum. You two wanna go first?”

“Indeed we do, my good host.”

“Tell you what, I'll even let you choose your opponents.” 

Logan scanned the crowd, attempting to decide who they should face off against, when Jackie whispered in his ear. He glanced over at Paul and Andy, sporting their letterman's, then back at Jackie. Keeping his eyes on the boys he whispered something to the girl and she nodded. Shrugging he motioned the athletes over. He wasn't aware of it, but Andy and Jackie had met before, in the cafeteria while Andy had been tormenting Eddie Kaspbrak. 

Cracking his knuckles, Paul grinned imperiously at the other duo. “You guys are gonna lose so fast it'll make your heads spin.”

Ignoring the glib attitude of the other players Logan raised his shoulders. “We'll see.”

Jackie kept silent, chin stuck out confidently. Losing wasn't just something she disliked. She completely and utterly loathed it. After her first party and first loss of beer pong she had practiced the game over and over again at the warehouse where her friends lived. Their mocking didn't dissuade her in the least and had ceased after she failed to ever lose at beer pong again. 

“Well, if it isn't the new girl. You still got your little brass knuckles?” Andy asked in a mocking tone. He obviously remembered Jackie as well. 

Ignoring the curious look Logan cast her Jackie smiled. “Yeah. That stain come out of your shirt?”

His only answer to this was a scoff. 

“Okay, ladies, enough talking, let's start the game!” Jacob's exclamation brought cheers from the spectators. 

Logan was an adequate player, but Paul and Andy were seasoned pros. Still, Jackie didn't miss a single shot. Landing her second, she called that she was ‘heating up’ and after making the third, she then had unlimited shots until she missed. The screams of amazement from the crowd grew in volume at each successful shot Jackie took. As the final cup stood she felt herself getting a little cocky. Staring Andy right in the eye she threw the ball without looking as a sort of hush fell over the people watching. Chaos erupted when it quietly splashed into its target. With some effort Jacob quieted everyone, reminding them Andy and Paul had a shot at redemption. Obviously nervous, Paul missed all five of his adversaries remaining cups, earning a hard punch to his shoulder from Andy. Carefully taking aim Andy landed his first shot but as his second bounced Logan swatted it to the side, earning more roaring applause from the throng of teenagers. 

Smirking derisively at the two boys across the table Jackie downed one of the five remaining beer cups. Patting Logan’s arm Jackie pointed to the door. “Let's head outside.” 

“Sure!” he shouted over the noise. “I'll meet you out there, just gonna grab some more drinks for us first.” 

Outside the house people were more spread out; several on the porch, some on the lawn, a number by the bonfire. Judging by the way several cars, with foggy windows, no less, were swaying there were a number of people in the makeshift lot as well. 

“Got a light?” a smooth voice asked to her left. Removing her lighter Jackie turned to give it to whoever had asked. Brushing his fingers lightly against her palm as he took it, Victor Criss smirked while he leaned against the house, recognition lighting in his eyes. “You're that Jackie girl Henry keeps bitching about. Nice to formally meet you.” A flame poked from the metal as Vic held the lighter to his cigarette, breathing in before tossing it back to its owner. 

“Henry seems like the type to bitch a lot,” Jackie answered tritely. 

Delicately removing the Marlboro from his lips the platinum blonde haired boy furrowed his brows. “I also hear a lot of talk about how you gave Hockstetter a few good knocks, though he hasn't said anything about it.”

“You friends with that idiot?” Jackie scoffed. 

“I guess you could call us friends.” 

“He come with you tonight?”

Victor pushed off the wall, looking Jackie up and down as he crossed his arms. “Yeah, he's here. Probably bothering some girl.” 

At this last remark he grinned at something over Jackie's shoulder. That was when she felt someone lean against her from behind, their arm snaking around her waist. Patrick. 

“Been a little while since I saw you last, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little late, I know. I don't know if anyone noticed it was late >_> But here it is now.


	12. A Watery Grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackie becomes better acquainted with Victor. More so than she would have liked. Stories told by a dying fire lead to curiosity.

Shoving Patrick backwards roughly Jackie stepped to the side to face him and Victor, her back against the house. As if in some unspoken agreement both boys moved closer, boxing her in.

Chuckling dryly, Jackie curled her lip with irritation. “Look, I came here to have fun, not to snap a couple of twigs, so why don't you do all three of us a favor and back off? Have a drink, bother someone else. Just leave me alone.”

Patrick leaned forward, placing a hand to rest beside her head. “But you're so much more _fun_. So new, and… ” He ran a strand of her silky brown hair between his fingers. “shiny.”

Victor puffed a plume of smoke into her face as he cooed in her ear. “Why don't you come play with us for a while, Jackie.”

Hand reaching to the back of her head, Patrick pulled lightly at her hair as he tangled his fingers in her locks. “We promise we'll try to be gentle.” His voice was dangerously low.

Jackie was about to raise her fist to strike Patrick but Victor saw it coming; he gripped her wrist with both hands, pinning it to the wall. Smoke coiled from his cigarette, dropped on the porch. “Play nice,” he purred.

“Trying to hit me again? My, we are violent.” Patrick's voice rose and fell with off-kilter laughter. He seemed barely able to contain himself. When Jackie moved to hit out at him with her free hand it just couldn't move fast enough. She was drunker than she'd realized; Patrick caught it with ease. Jackie ground her teeth in irritation before a devious smile appeared. Tilting her head back she brought it against Patrick's nose with powerful force, a  dull _thud_ bouncing around her skull. A grunt of pain and surprise sprang from him; he let go. Rearing her foot up it connected with his groin as she kicked him back. Gripping his crotch he stumbled backward, face screwed up in agony. In his shock Victor’s hold loosened. Lifting her shoe Jackie drew it back before swinging hard into his shin. A yelp erupted and he released her, backing away slightly.

Logan came through the door then, laughing as he shouted over his shoulder to someone inside. A cup in one hand and a few beers clutched in the other, he stopped as he surveyed the scene before him. “Is… there a problem here?” Logan’s face wore a grin but there was a deadly seriousness in his eyes.

Victor held his hands up as he moved further off, scowling at Jackie. “No problems here. Right, Patrick?”

Patrick ignored Logan while he spoke, keeping his gaze trained on Jackie's livid expression. “No problems here.” It was almost a whisper, his voice rasping as a snake’s hiss. Both Patrick and Victor brushed passed Logan to enter the house, a rough chuckle emanating from Hockstetter before he disappeared.

“What was that about?” Logan questioned as he and Jackie headed towards the bonfire.

“Nothing. Gimme a beer.” Jackie plopped onto one of the unoccupied logs surrounding the burning pile of wood.

He obliged with no further questions. After a few more trips inside to replenish their drinks, Logan and Jackie were thoroughly sloshed. Topics of conversation ranged from music, to bands, to school, to family.

“Yeah I've got…” a burp briefly interrupted Logan’s speech. “I've got a sister in high school. After my dad left things got really hard on my mom. I had to come back home and kind of take care of everyone.”

Speech ever so slightly slurred, Jackie asked, “You in college?”

Logan sighed ruefully. “I was. What about you? You got any family?”

Something somewhere between a laugh and a sob escaped Jackie's lips before she downed the second half of her beer in a few gulps.

“Okay, maybe we don't talk about your family. So… where did you learn to play the guitar like that?”

“Taught myself. Read some books. Learned to copy the songs I liked if I couldn't find the sheet music.”

Jaw dropping, he raised his eyebrows in astonishment. “Yer shittin’ me.”

“Swear to God.”

“So you're talented, beautiful, you can hold your alcohol like nobody’s business… You've gotta have a boyfriend somewhere, right?”

Eyes rolling Jackie laughed. “No.”

Scooting closer Logan rested his arm on the far side of Jackie's hip, his face close to hers. “I can't believe nobody's snatched you up.”

Jackie cocked an eyebrow, smiling coyly. “Most people can't handle me.”

Head moving ever so slightly closer, Logan’s voice lowered. “Is that so?”

Jackie closed the distance between them, her lips gingerly brushing his. One of Logan’s hands raised to grip her jaw, the other rose slightly to rest at the small of her back, gently pushing her closer to him. Flickering and warming, the firelight danced across the side of their faces in the pale moonlight, both their heads swimming in intoxication. Loan’s tongue skimmed across Jackie's bottom lip, delicately prompting her mouth open. As the kiss depended Jackie slid herself across Logan to straddle his waist, never breaking contact. Something between a grunt and moan of approval emanated from him as she did this; he wrapped his arms firmly around her as Jackie began to grind her hips ever so slightly. She gasped faintly in appreciation of the bulge growing beneath her, simultaneously enjoying the feeling of moving against it while growing frustrated at not having more.

Suddenly Logan broke away, eliciting a whine of discontent from the girl on his lap. Sounding faintly winded, Logan grinned sheepishly as he glanced aside. “Maybe we should take this somewhere more private.”

“Awww, but it was just getting good.”

A snarl curved across Jackie's mouth as she turned to face Patrick, standing a few feet away but unnoticed until that moment. “What do I have to do to get rid of you?”

“I don't know,” Patrick’s eyes dragged up and down her backside as he licked his lips. “what d’you got?”

Logan lifted Jackie slightly as they both stood. “I think you'd better scram before I do something you'll regret.”

“Maybe you should take care of that first.” Patrick pointed down to the tent forming in Logan’s pants with a hyena like giggle.

Before the situation could devolve any further, a whistle sounded. Belch shouted to Patrick from across the lawn, Henry and Victor following behind, each swaying in somewhat of a drunken stupor. “We're leaving now. You commin’?”

Casting a final, disturbing grin at the pair before him Patrick trotted off to meet his friends.

“God I hate them,” Logan huffed, wiping his hand across his face in frustration.

Someone else approached them then, sauntering over from the house. “Heeey, buddy, where you been all night?” It was the singer from the band. As he grew closer and began conversing with Logan Jackie sat back down on the log, tuning the two out while lighting a cigarette.

When Logan finally seated himself beside her more people were making their way outside to the fire. “So, you wanna go for a walk?”

Jackie’s gaze remained trained on the blaze before her as she breathed in the cigarette. “Nope.”

The conversation of others filled the night but Jackie remained quiet, lost amongst the sea of her musings. Night wore on into what was technically early morning and most people had either left or passed out on the lawn or in the house. A group near Jackie grew quiet as they listened to someone  telling a story.

“... and so they were standing by the water, and I guess the mother wasn't holding the kid tightly enough because it started suddenly moving around, you know, getting all squirmy. The mom lost her grip and the kid dropped into the water and just sank.”

“Why didn't she jump in after it?”

“Well, I heard some guy did but it was already too late. The water's deep so the kid just went right down. The guy who tried to save the baby had to be fished out afterwards because there's no ladder or anything.”

“I heard a couple of teenage boys accidentally fell in there one night while they were goofing around. They called for hours but no one could hear them. After a while you get tired, paddling around and stuff. One by one they started to drown. Splashing around, sinking, coming up for air over and over again until finally they couldn't come up anymore. The janitor or maintenance guy or someone found them dead the next day.”

A bit of a hush fell briefly before someone broke the quiet. “That's stupid. Couldn't they just float on their backs?”

“No, moron, even floating takes work. You have to make yourself float so eventually they wouldn't be able to do it anymore.”

“I don't think that's true, is it?” An argument broke out briefly, discussing the merit of the story but this didn't last long.

“I heard that the people who died at the standpipe haunt it, even the mother. After she died her ghost went there to look for her baby, because there was never any body to bury. You can hear her wailing in the night sometimes.”

Of course this statement brought on more disagreements until someone stood, raising their arms to silence the group. “Why don't we stop arguing and just go see for ourselves?”

“What?”

“Let's go to the standpipe and see if we find any ghosts.”

Cries of excitement and assent confirmed the listeners enthusiasm for this idea.

“We're going to the standpipe if anyone wants to come with us,” someone shouted to the others at the fire as several people raced to the cars.

Standing with some difficulty Jackie followed after them. “You coming?” she called to Logan. Glancing back she noted with a smile he was passed out across the log. _He'll be sore in the morning_ , she mused.

Aaron, seeing Jackie striding over, motioned her into his car as the engine sputtered to life. “You ready to see some of Derry’s ghosts, new girl?”

She paused a moment, the seemingly innocent question causing a shuddering chill up and down her spine. Unwisely dismissing this foreboding she grinned. “Of course.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's been reading, I'm excited about those 400+ views. I realize the number of people who read through and follow the story is much lower than that but I'm happy to think people are perusing my work. Hope you enjoyed this latest chapter. The next ones gonna be wild ;)


	13. 20,000 Leagues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terror from below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the update is late again. ¯\\_(ツ)_/ ¯ I originally felt like this chapter wasn't that good but after people's encouraging comments and re-reading it I'm actually happy with how it came out, so thanks so much!

Shivers racked Jackie's body as the car drove ever closer to the standpipe. Though the air was chilly, her jacket and the warm car left little explanation as to her trembling. Some unspoken fear was growing in and around her. Hard as Jackie tried, the feeling of dread would not leave. As the gigantic structure came into view Jackie screwed her eyes tightly shut, willing herself to settle down, to quit being so _irrational._ With a few deep breaths she was at least calm enough to act like her stomach wasn't tying itself in knots.

“Welcome to the standpipe, kids,” Aaron sniggered as his seven passengers piled out.

Enormous and forbidding, it seemed to loom over Jackie like some dark tower, full of damp,decaying things. _Dead things_ , Jackie's mind whispered. And there was no dismissing this thought. The whole reason they'd come in the first place was to chase the ghosts of those who had died here. To Jackie, the possibility of their rotting corpses still residing somewhere down there seemed not only feasible but likely.

“Looking a little pale new kid.” The voice came from a girl next to her, the observation stated in an undertone. “Afraid of what we'll find?”

Denying her fright seemed pointless. “I'd be lying if I said I wasn't spooked. People died here and I think that deserves a certain amount of respectful fear.”

“Fair enough,” the girl shrugged. “I'm Amelia, by the way.”

“Jackie.”

“Oh, I know. Word spreads fast, especially when you get in a fight with Patrick Hockstetter on your first day.”

As the group of nearly twenty people approached, giggles of excited anticipation interrupted the night's chilling silence. Half walking, half feeling their way around the structure they quickly found the door. Harsh winds suddenly picked up, ramming into the entrance and blowing it open with an eerie creak of old wood and hinges. Uneasy laughter spread through the bunch as someone pushed the door open further.

“I thought it would be locked.”

“Maybe someone forgot to lock it. Or maybe the door’s broken.”

“...Yeah, maybe.”

Light chit-chat echoed up along the thick, spiraling stairs, reverberating back in strange, sinister tones. Emily, the stoner girl from Aaron's car, looped her arms around one of Jackie's. “Creepy, huh?” Her voice was attempting to sound jovial and not succeeding.

Jackie's only response was a distracted nod. Most people were winded following the climb. At the top a humid darkness greeted them. No wind to stir waves and no dripping, yet still the presence of the water was almost palpable to Jackie. _Or maybe it's just the things in the water you can sense_. Shuddering at this thought she glanced around the barely lit balcony. “Did anyone bring a light?”

Something flickered and a flashlight shon underneath the holder’s chin. “Yeah, I brought one.” His voice was low, obviously trying to scare the group. Not difficult to do, considering how on edge most of them were already. He waved it around slowly, giving everyone a chance to get a look about the inside. Dim shadows briefly cast by the small illumination as it traveled the room gave vague impressions of things that weren't there: monsters seemed to leap out and dissipate as the beam went round. Finally it was cast down to the water some thirty feet below them. Most people had laid themselves flat on the precipice of the overhanging floor to look down into the reflecting surface.

Even with the light nothing could really be seen in its murky depths. One girl, it was Amelia, hunched over. Hands resting on her knees, an anxious expression contorted her face. Jackie was one of those flat across the wooden planks. Glancing over to Amelia she noticed a strange, glassy look in her eyes; the girl was utterly transfixed. By what was a complete mystery, all Jackie could make out was dim water. Amelia leaned forward, beginning to crawl closer to the end of the floor on hands and knees. Jackie saw what was about to happen; she called out, her cry ringing in the air. It was too late. Amelia's right hand reached out to find nothing but emptiness: she plummeted downwards. A boy who'd been just next to her desperately clutched out but succeeded only in tearing her left sneaker off. It shook in his hand as the girl splashed into frigid water, rippling the previously still liquid in wide waves. Chaos broke out, suddenly everyone was either screaming or yelling down to her.

After about ten seconds a loud, booming voice shouted over the rest. “Shut up!” he commanded. “We just have to go find someone who can get her out.”

“But we'll get in trouble!”

“My parents are gonna kill me.”

“Listen man, if we get someone to get her out, the cops’ll come and I don't want to be involved with that. You guys figure it out but I'm out of here.” As the boy turned to leave nearly everyone else followed quickly behind. Soon only Emily, Aaron, Jackie, and the boy who quieted the group in the first place remained.

“Please don't leave!” Amelia was nearly sobbing now as she treaded water, teeth chattering.

Jackie leaned cautiously over the side. “We won't leave you. Some of us will stay here while the others get help.” She turned to those remaining. “Who's staying?” All three looked away a little awkwardly.

Aaron kept his eyes fixed on the floor as he spoke. “Do we really need more than one person to stay with her?”

Rolling her eyes Jackie waved them away, exasperated. “Fine, I'll stay and all you scardy-cats can scamper off and find someone to get her out. Leave the flashlight.”

No more convincing necessary, they headed down the stairs,tossing the light at her. Faintly echoing, sounds of their footsteps slowly faded, leaving the two girls alone.

“I'm s-scared. The water is freezing.”

Shinning the flashlight just to the side of the terrified girl, Jackie tired to smile reassuringly. “Don't worry, they'll be back soon. You'll be out of there before the sun comes up, I promise.”

“Can you… can you just talk about something? Anything? I can't stop thinking about those boys who died here, about the ghost stories…”

“Okay… uhhh,” Jackie faltered. She wasn't used to doing this; she hadn't done it in a long time, not since she'd first entered the foster system and comforted the other kids. “Have you… read anything good lately?”

“Yeah, actually. I just finished Journey to the Center of the Earth.”

“I've read that too. You a big Jules Verne fan?”

“Yeah, I've read a ton of his stuff. 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea was always my favorite, even though I was so terrified of the…” Amelia paused mid-sentence. Light reflected from the water’s surface onto her pale face. The fear was infectious, Jackie felt her unease from earlier returning.

“What? You're freaking me out.”

“Something just brushed my leg.” Amelia was beginning to hyperventilate, breathing in short, rasping gasps.

Finding it difficult to comfort the other over her own alarm Jackie lamely stated, “You're just imagining it.”

Amelia opened her mouth to respond, scanning the impossibly dark water around her in vain, but no words ever came. Instead her body was violently jerked to the side, cutting through the water as a scream erupted from her throat. Standing, Jackie squeezed the flashlight with both hands, following the hysterical Amelia, helpless.She was being… _yanked_ to and fro by some unseen force.

Panic overtook her. She shouted down, attempting to be heard over the other girl's wailing. “Amelia! What's happening?! Amelia?” Without warning she disappeared below the surface, her shriek cut off in a sudden gurgle. Falling to the ground Jackie reached her arms down over the side as far as it would go, training the light on the source of the ripples. Nothing. Not a single sound but her own heavy breathing. A few seconds passed. A few more. A minute. Tears born of absolute and utter fear pooled at the corners of her eyes before slipping down her face. As they streamed down to her chin, pooling, a single drop fell on the now nearly stilled water. Suddenly: movement. A hand emerged from the water. A gasp of excitement and a smile burst from Jackie as she moved the beam to the surfacing limb. But there was something odd. The hand was too pale. Parts of flesh were missing, in some areas so much so that muscle and pallid bone showed. What was more, it's sluggish ascension revealed the arm to be preposterously long. Its fingers twitched as it rose further and further. Jackie stood but her body felt heavy, barely willing to cooperate. The arm grew wider and wider, it's tone slowly becoming a sickly, sea green. Rubbery slime replaced epidermis as the appendage revealed more of itself. Suckers began to dot the arm, new horror dawned on Jackie.

It was a tentacle.

Mind numbing, she found her brain hardly able to comprehend what her eyes were showing her. _Run. Turn around and run._ If only her legs would listen. Painfully slow, her feet shuffled backwards. At the same time her hand was feeling along the wall beside the staircase a plethora of new tentacles shot out, reaching towards her with terrifying speed. Scrambling around she stumbled down several steps, feeling how close the squid was to her. Salty sea air filled her lungs, salty enough to choke on. The monster's dripping appendages smacked just behind her, the impact brining a spray of ocean mist. Feet stepping over one another in their panicked rush, she stumbled over, falling, spinning, crashing down nearly twenty steps. Thinking she must surely be beyond the thing's reach Jackie dared a glance behind. Fresh dread spiked through her gut as the tentacles slithered down the stairwell. Though she couldn't see it, she knew they were dragging the fat, immense head and body behind them. If she saw that head, if she looked into its huge, black, wet eye… she’d go mad. Of that Jackie was certain.

Leaping down several steps at a time the thought briefly passed that her breakneck pace might do just that: break her neck. But that fear was nothing compared to what she felt towards the humongous monstrosity filling the staircase behind her with its fleshy, corpulent mass. Only when her legs had carried her several hundred feet from the standpipe did Jackie dare cease her flight and look back. But the scene behind her was still. Whatever had chased her down the stairs had remained in the building or crawled back down to whatever depths the water offered. Other than the rushing thud of her heart all was total silence.

 _I didn't see that. I didn't see that._ Merely speaking the words in her head didn't seem enough. “I didn't see that,” she whispered. She hadn't meant to whisper. She wanted to shout the statement into the blustery night air, to scream it at the moon. “I didn't see that,” Jackie whispered again, voice choking on the lump in her throat. _Amelia's dead. That thing killed her. It killed her. It was going to kill me._ A powerful feeling rose in her then, a feeling of inescapable purpose, of moving towards an end, of taking a step towards her… her destiny. And that conclusion shook her to her core. _I don't want to fight it_ , she thought incoherently.

Another voice, nearly forgotten and yet never far from her mind rumbled in response. _You must face it. You must fight it. But you won't have to fight it alone._


	14. Butch Bowers and Bad Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like father like son, like bad memories burning your skin.

“All right, let's go over it one more time,” the police officer sighed.

Jackie gritted her teeth, eyebrows raised in exasperation as her her gaze remained trained to the desk. “How many more times am I going to have to repeat my story to you?”

Sounds of angry parents floated to Jackie's ears through the small office’s partially opened door. Straightening a few papers the officer seemed as bored as Jackie was irritated. He was scrawny, with cheekbones and chin that stood out sharply on a gaunt face. Restlessly tapping, his finger ticked away each painfully long second. “Just one more time, Miss Burke, from the beginning.”

Crossing her arms Jackie slouched back in the chair. “We were sitting around, people were telling ghost stories about the standpipe, and we decided to go have a look at it. See if we could…” she flung up her arms melodramatically. “find the ghosts of the people who died there. The door was already unlocked. It must have been unbolted too because the wind blew it open before any of us touched it. We went up, Amelia fell in, most people left, Aaron, Emily, and the other kid came here to get help, I waited with Amelia. She was drunk and seemed really out of it. I was sitting there quietly and before I even realized what was happening she'd fallen asleep or passed out or something and was floating face down. I had no idea what to do, by the time I noticed what was happening she must have already been half drowned. When the bubbles stopped coming up I ran outside, you guys showed up a few minutes later, then we came here and I repeated the whole story to you fifty times over because apparently you're some kind of moron.” A huff concluded this most recent retelling as Jackie glared at the person before her.

“No need to get snarky, Miss Burke. I understand your hysteria,”

“I am _not_ hysterical.”

“I understand you're frustrated and upset, but I'm just trying to do my job. Amelia's parents were called as soon as the other kids came to ask for help, before we even knew what had happened, so they'll be here soon. I need to make sure we have everything correct. Now, you said you realized she was floating wrong-side-up in the water,” She grew nervous as he brought up this point. After the squid surfaced she'd run with no thoughts of turning back; if Amelia's body came back up she certainly hadn't seen it. The version told to the policeman was the best she could think up, the truth was too absurd. A knock from behind drew his eyes to the door. “Excuse me a moment,” he stated dryly. As he left Jackie tilted her head, watching him converse in inaudible whispers with another officer before he sighed and walked off. She quickly turned back to face forward as the other man entered, straightening his belt as he did. Fully closing the door he drew the shades closed before taking a seat. This policeman was much sturdier than the last, shoulders broad with a protruding gut. Jackie noted, with no small amount of disdain, that he had a five o’clock shadow as well.

“You say you left Amelia floating on the surface?” His condescending expression felt like a slap. Gritting her teeth she affirmed this statement. “And you didn't notice anything strange about her?”

Jackie tried to hide her confusion at this question. “N-no.”

“So you didn't notice that her legs and an arm were missing? Or that there were huge, bloody holes in her torso? Or that her face had been torn clean off?”

Unable to stop herself Jackie's jaw fell slightly open, her eyes wide in horror. _It ate her_. _That thing fucking_ ate _her_. This thought resounded against her skull, threatening to drown out all other noise along with her sanity. A fist slamming against the table shocked her out of her dark brooding; she nearly jumped out of the seat.

“Don't ignore me!” His voice was just below a bellow, eyes threatening to bore holes through her with their intense focus. Voice chilling and dangerously soft, he continued on in a calmer tone that didn't quite belie the rage burning underneath. “I'm going to ask you again: What. Happened.”

Until that point she'd stayed mostly composed, channeling the remnants of fear into anger. But now all facades were crumbling. A lump formed in her throat but she forced it down. Unsure what else to do, Jackie told the only part of the truth she could. “She was… we were just talking and she said she felt something on her leg. Then she… I mean she was being pulled from side to side, screaming her head off. Then something pulled her down and I ran. I almost broke my neck going down the stairs after that I was so scared. I know it sounds crazy but I swear on my life that's what happened.” It was a solemn moment for Jackie, one of rare honesty. In her fear she felt so overpoweringly exposed.

Scratching the stubble on his chin, which produced a nearly unbearable sound, he suppressed his obvious aggravation. “Uh-huh. Take any drugs tonight, did you?”

Halfway rising out of her seat, Jackie’s mouth turned up with an outraged sneer. Her fear gave way to anger as it often did; she was nearly shouting now. “I fucking told you the truth! What, you think I just fucking made this up? I don't know what you…” Her next words were cut off sharply as he suddenly lunged to grab her jacket’s collar before practically dragging her part-way across the desk.

Voice now unrestrained, he yelled loudly enough that Jackie was certain anyone outside the office would be able to clearly hear his shout. “Listen you little _cunt_ , you come in here smashed with your drunk friends and pull some half-assed, crazy story outta your ass and then give me lip when I don't believe you?!” Taking a deep breath he shoved her back to her seat, voice lowering to a normal volume. “There's no reason for us to believe any of you four idiots did anything to that girl, but we'll be keeping our eyes on you. You tell people the first version of your story, none of that being dragged around shit. You learn anything new to tell us why the fuck she was torn to shreds you tell us immediately. Do I make myself clear?”

Setting her jaw to the side Jackie refused to break eye contact. “Perfectly clear.” A shiver ran down her spine at the familiarity of it all, the yelling, the almost violent outburst, the demanding way he expected his every word to be followed, even the way he'd called her a ‘cunt’. For a moment it had been as though her long dead uncle Raymond was sitting in front of her.

Rising, he left without another word or another glance her way. Before fully passing her, she caught his uniforms name tag: Oscar Bowers. Just as the dots were beginning to connect the scrawny officer from before popped his head in to let her know she could leave. As Jackie stepped outside into the sunlight, just beginning to spill over from the horizon, two people, a man and a woman, were hurrying into the building looking worried. _Those are her parents_ , she realized. Shivering, Jackie quickened her pace. She needed to be far, far away. Far enough so as to not have to hear the crying wails that were sure to come.

 

Dear old Aunt Tabitha had _not_ shown up to the police station. Apparently she was called but there had been no answer and she had no answering machine. With any luck the elderly woman wouldn't find out anything about the whole ordeal. Anyway, even if someone did tell her something she'd probably forget in any case. Bracing her body against the door Jackie did her best to open it silently, wincing as it creaked. Eyes darting to the left and right she waited for any noises before closing the entrance gently behind her. Tabitha’s room was on the first floor, door slightly ajar. _Sleeping like the dead_ , she noted of the still form beneath the covers. A shiver ran down her spine at that thought, the phrase suddenly feeling so much more potent. Tiptoeing across the carpet, she hovered over her Great Aunt, relief flooding her body as a quiet snore slipped from her wrinkled mouth. A small smile split Jackie's mouth at the sight of the tiny woman, barely taking up any space on the bed. In old age she seemed so fragile. Pulling the blanket up from where it had slipped to her waist, Jackie tucked it gently under her Aunt's chin.

Steps creaking, Jackie made her way upstairs, exhaustion finally setting in. Using the bathroom sink like a foundation she took several generous gulps before wiping her mouth and slinking to her room. Tearing at her shoelaces she shimmed out of her jacket and had barely flung her boots off before collapsing across the sheets, falling asleep almost immediately.

 

Something smelled… off. Sniffing, only partially awake, she inhaled more deeply through her nose before a coughing fit wracked her body. Eyes flying open she bolted upright, a line of drool trailing from her mouth to chin. Grey smoke stood out starkly against the pale moonlight streaming through her window. That was when she heard the screams. And fists banging on wood. Panicked she sprang to her door, desperate to get downstairs to her parents. But the handle was scorching to the touch, searing pain shot through her palm. Yelping, she flung herself back. She was a heavy sleeper, why was she such a heavy sleeper? Now she would die here in this house, burned alive, cooked like meat in an oven. Running to the window she shoved upwards, bracing her shoulder against the frame to lift it. Sticking her head out so far she nearly fell to the brick patio below she breathed in sweet fresh air, smoke billowing out behind her.

_Crack_

Her door was catching alight. Soon she'd have more to contend with than just smoke.

_Crack_

The first flames bounded in, door frame now nothing more than burning splinters. Tears streamed down her face while her parents shrieked in agony somewhere below her. _You have to jump. Just jump! Jump, jump, jump!_ But Jackie couldn't bring herself to do it, no matter how hard she tried, no matter how hot the flames were at her back. Suddenly a new odor accosted her, and though she'd never smelled it before she knew, she _knew_ what it was: the sickening stench of blazing flesh. Hesitating no longer she turned, ready to lower herself down before jumping. But as she faced her burning room, lifting her foot behind her over the edge it slipped across the pane, and she fell, head knocking hard against cool brick.

 

Sweat covered her brow in a thick sheet when she woke from the nightmare, head whipping around the cool room and recognizing it wasn't the one from her childhood. Clutching the sheets, damp from her own perspiration, she sobbed soundlessly, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes before falling in salty streaks. It had been more like reliving the experience than merely having a nightmare about it. Everything had seemed real. So blistering, so deafening. Deep, shaky breaths calmed her somewhat and it was then she realized someone else was in the room, standing just a few feet in from the open door. She recognized him from his tidy clothing and curly hair, it was one of the boys she'd stood up for in the cafeteria that first day. What had they said his name was? Stan?

His young eyes searched hers in a quiet, worrying way, almost in the same way an adult would look at an upset child. “Are… are you okay?”


	15. Saturday Morning Fun Pit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackie cleans out the garage with some unexpected help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this isn't on time, I was visiting friends in another state over the weekend. I think 2 updates a week is really too many for me and they're always late anyhow, so from now on I'll be doing Saturday updates.

Saturday mornings were a terrible thing to waste, but Stan’s parents didn't quite seem to comprehend or appreciate that. Normally he would head over to Ms. Burke’s house on a school night to read to her for an hour or so, and that wasn't so bad. But during the weekend? It was so unfair. Regardless of how he felt about it, Stan was an obedient boy and after seeing his parents weren't about to budge he resigned himself to his fate. Tabitha had greeted him and his father, who'd walked him to the door, at 10:03 exactly. If he read just a bit faster than usual, and if the elderly woman didn't notice, he figured he could meet the others in the barrens by 10:45 or 11:00, but after about twenty minutes he'd had to excuse himself to go use the bathroom upstairs.

Thoroughly washing his hands he was just opening the door when whimpering reached his ears. Curious, he stepped lightly down the hall, zeroing in on the room where the door, only the slightest bit open, let a sliver of light into the hallway. Ear against the frame he listened a few seconds. His parents had mentioned something about a relative of Tabitha’s moving in with her and he'd heard murmurings in the school, as you always did when a new kid arrived. Another muffled cry, panicked and pathetic, drew him to push the entrance open. Immediately he recognized the girl who'd stood up to Andy in the cafeteria just a few days before. Richie and Eddie hadn't shut up about it; he'd found himself thinking back on the incident quite a lot as well. But her expression now wasn't one of unwavering confidence as it had been during her confrontation with the bully. Instead it was twisted up in desperate sorrow. Tears even streaked the side of her face. She looked so terribly unhappy, obviously in the thrall of some awful nightmare.

Hesitant, he stepped towards her, wanting to wake the girl from whatever frightful visions her own mind was inflicting upon her. At the same moment he'd firmly determined to wake her Jackie bolted up, gasping. Looking around the room almost frantically she didn't even notice him at first. When the sobs convulsed her Stan began to feel guilty, like he was seeing something he wasn't supposed to. Cries quieting Jackie took in a few trembling breaths, her head slowly turning to him as she became aware of his presence. Her messy hair and confused expression would have seemed comical under other circumstances. But her sad, dark eyes, so grieved it sent a small pang through his heart, told an wholly different story.

Feeling awkward the boy said the only thing he could think of in the moment. “Are… are you okay?”

She seemed taken aback by both the question and his presence. Weakly inquiring, her voice cracked. “Wh… what are…” Clearing her throat she gathered herself, countenance changing to be guarded and slightly hostile. “What the fuck are you doing here?” It wasn't exactly an accusation so much as a query born of complete bafflement.

“Well, I… I read to your great aunt sometimes,” came the quiet but firm reply. “I wasn't trying to intrude; you were having a nightmare and you seemed so upset I thought I'd wake you.” Eyes darting to the floor he appeared almost embarrassed.

“Uh, okay. Well, I'm fine now.” Not needing any further prompting he turned, closing the door behind him as he left. Tiredly wiping a hand down her face a wavering sigh escaped. Hand balled into a fist Jackie tapped her forehead in numb rhythm, unable to dispel the lingering residue of the nightmare from her mind. With a few punches to her thigh she rose to shower. Cold water chilling her in a comforting way, her unhappy thoughts washed down with the grease and dead skin cells of her body.

By the time she was dressed and heading down to breakfast Stanley was still sitting with Tabitha in the living room, his voice a calm, even tone. Her Aunt's eyes were far away, absorbed in the dark telling of a professors life. Even after she'd finished her cereal, Jackie lingered in the kitchen, listening to the young boy read. Unexpectedly, she found herself becoming drawn into the tale, losing sight of the kitchen, tile, and cabinets, each fading into blurry nothings while his voice worked the magic of storytelling. As his vocalization faded and he closed the book, Jackie slowly shook her head, bringing herself back to the present. Placing her dishes in the sink, she was just preparing to head back to her room when Tabitha, aware of her presence, called her over. Folding her arms across her chest, she raised an eyebrow at her niece while Stanley prepared to leave. “I suppose you were in the garage yesterday?” With a sudden sinking in her gut, Jackie realized she'd never moved the boxes back in after taking them out to make room for her musical equipment.

“Yeah, I was in the garage.”

“Well, it needs to be cleaned. And since you left out the boxes, I thought you might as well clean it now.” The smile on her face as she said this wasn't supercilious or demanding. Inexplicably, Jackie's rebellious side softened and, though she didn't particularly feel like it, she decided to do what had been asked of her.

“... Yeah, okay,” she sighed.

Stanley was nearly out the door, but had heard the conversation going on. For reasons beyond his understanding he found his way back to the living room. Even further beyond his understanding, the following question came out of his mouth before he even had time to think about what he was asking. “Would you like help cleaning out the garage?”

Jackie viewed him with curiosity, unsure how to take the unexpected offer for help. He'd obviously been eager to be over with his chore but now was offering to spend more time here, working. “Doesn't make a difference to me.”

His friends were expecting him but for whatever reason he felt he ought to help Jackie. They headed outside and after opening the garage door the two of them stood facing the piles of what was mostly junk, unsure where to begin.

Looking to Jackie, he waited to see what she would do, but after the silence wore on for about 30 seconds and she was still only staring at the mess, he spoke up. “We could start by making piles and putting similar things together.” Gaze seeming far away she only nodded in response.

Half an hour in to their cleaning and organizing they'd gotten much farther than Jackie would have imagined. Stan seemed to have a head for systemizing what was there and finding a place for it. Before long he was the one directing her. Normally some little kid telling her what to do would piss her off, but he was so polite and so clearly had a better idea of what needed to be done that it didn't bother her.

As Stan handed her a broken lamp to put in the throw away pile, she decided to start up a conversation. “So how'd you end up reading to my aunt anyway? She mentioned once before that there was a kid who came and read to her but how'd you get stuck doing that?”

“I didn't get _stuck_ doing it. I guess you didn't know but your aunt is good friends with my family. Her last husband was Jewish, so my parents would see them around and eventually they became friends. Even after her husband died they stayed in contact. She used to babysit me sometimes. And now her mind… well, I mean, she's maybe not as… sharp as she used to be. And her eyesight got so bad and she didn't really have any family. So sometimes we have her over for dinner and sometimes I read to her.” He ended this explanation with a shrug.

“Huh,” was all Jackie offered in reply.

Stanley opened his mouth and closed it several times, a question he was afraid to ask on the tip of his tongue. Suddenly he found himself blurting it out. “So why'd you move here? Where are your parents?” Such a tactless inquiry was unlike him; if Jackie wasn't living with her parents chances were the reason wasn't a happy one.

Pausing in her work, her back to him, Jackie grew rigid. Nervously, he waited for her response. As she began to continue cleaning, still facing away from him, he only barely caught her words. “They're dead.”

“I'm so sorry. I… I shouldn't have asked.” Scratching his arm he got the abrupt urge to make up some excuse so he could leave.

Turning to look at him she smiled in a sad sort of way, shrugging. “It's okay, it was a long time ago. I was in a lot of foster homes for a while but then my social worker realized I had family in Derry, so here I am.”

A sudden shout interrupted the uncomfortable moment. “Hey, Stanley, on a date?”

“Oh brother,” Stanley sighed as he looked round to find Eddie, Richie and Bill walking their bikes by the house.

Dropping his two-wheeler on the lawn and coming up the drive, Richie leaned on one of the boxes. “Jackie, taking our little Stan away from us just to help you clean? Not very nice, not very nice at all. You oughta at least marry a guy before you make him clean your garage.”

Stan began to grow red at this comment.

“S-s-shut up for once, w-will you Richie?” The boy she didn't recognize and Eddie had left their bikes on the lawn and come up the drive.

Eddie, looking from Jackie to Bill, introduced them. “Bill, this is that girl we told you about, the one who chased Andy off. Jackie, this is our friend, Bill Denbrough.”

He smiled awkwardly and waved as the instruction was made. “N-n-n-nice to m-m-mmm-m-meet you.”

“Okay. It’s, uh, nice to see you all but I've got stuff to do here, so why don't you all take Stan and do whatever it is you do on Saturdays?”

“Well,” Richie strode confidently over to Jackie, resting an elbow on Eddie's shoulder as he spoke. “it just so happens what we like to do on Saturdays is help pretty girls clean their garages.” Eddie shoved his friends elbow off him, irritated. Unperturbed, he continued. “We've just been cruising around most weekends, hopelessly looking for some girl whose garage we could clean but with no luck until now.” He dropped to his knees dramatically, clinging to Jackie's leg as though he were a peasant begging before a queen. Changing his tone to that of his character Pickaninny, he cried out in mock desperation. “You gotta lets us help you, massa, we’s jes don't know what to do without work these pass weeks. Oh please, good lady!”

Shaking him off Jackie crossed her arms. “Mmm, well, bad impressions aside, I have no objections to doing less work. But I'm not sure your friends will be as thrilled to help as you are.”

Quickly standing Richie wrapped an arm around both Eddie and Bill’s necks, pulling them closer. “Nah, they won't mind. They got nothin’ better to do, right boys?” Bill shrugged and Eddie seemed almost as eager as Richie.

“Alright then, shut up and help me clean.”

Jackie rapidly discovered that many hands did _not_ always make light work. If Richie wasn't doing a gag with random objects he found he was distracting the others. He seemed to find a particular amusement in getting under Eddie's skin, causing the shorter boy to drop whatever he was doing to argue with Tozier. Bill or Stan would usually step in to break them apart and then the whole process would start over again 10 minutes later. As though that wasn't bad enough, if Eddie wasn't being distracted by Richie he was complaining about germs or talking about the likelihood of an accident occurring in a garage. More times than not he was making excuses as to why he couldn't do this or that and insisting someone else do it for him.

Around 1:00 Tabitha brought sandwiches out to her niece and Stan. Seeing more had come three additional sandwiches came out shortly afterwards.

As Richie took the food from Tabitha he thanked her in a raspy, old man's voice. “Why thank you dear, I'm starved. You have captured my heart with this most excellent sandwich.” Holding out his arms he puckered his lips. “Come my dear, give us a kiss!” All five were surprised when, with a mischievous smile on her face, Tabitha actually did give him a peck on the cheek. As she walked inside Bill, Eddie, Stan, and even Jackie burst out laughing at Richie, lipstick smeared on his shocked features. A grin spread over his face, seeing how amused the others were. Wiping the pink away with the sleeve of his t-shirt he winked at the group. “The ladies can't stay away from me. I don't know how to tell your mom about this, Eds.”

Rolling his eyes Eddie mumbled, “Shut up Richie,” before reverting his attention back to a box he'd been sorting through.

 

Three o clock rolled around and the task was finally done. A great deal of clutter had been thrown out, boxes were set aside for donation, and the rest was methodically stowed in its new place. Jackie was just about to close the door when Bill pointed to her guitar in the corner. “Is that y-y-yours?”

“No, it's my Aunt's,” Jackie answered sarcastically.

“You play the guitar?” Richie’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah.”

“Play something for us!”

“No thanks Richie.”

“Not even after we helped you clean?” Eddie chimed in.

Rolling her eyes Jackie began to hook the instrument up to the amplifier. After thinking a moment she decided on playing the solo from Pink Floyd's _Comfortably Numb._ Melancholy notes clanged in the air and for a brief minute she was drawn into the music, barely aware of the boys gawking in awe. Taking the strap off and replacing the guitar she bowed sarcastically.

Richie, of course, was the first to speak. “Holy shit.”

“That was really impressive,” Stan added.

Jackie waved them away as she headed inside. “Yeah yeah, now get off my property.”

Waving goodbye the boys collected their bikes, with Stanley standing on the back of Bill’s, and rode off.

Gathering her jacket and stuffing cigarettes and a book into her pockets, Jackie headed out to the woods behind her house, planning to read and relax for a few hours before dinner. Little did she know how unrelaxing her time in the woods would turn out to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lame ending is lame. Oh well. I feel like I'm struggling a little bit with staying accurate to the losers characters, so if you feel something they're doing is OOC please let me know, I would love constructive criticism. Keep in mind though that for Richie, I am also relying on his character in the book and the 90s movie for reference. Hope you guys liked it, and thanks for the comments, they've been seriously making me so happy.


	16. Little Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beware the wolf in the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long. It's long. But, I think there's enough action that it won't be too draining to read. Also, some of the content at the end of the chapter is pretty disturbing in my opinion, so again, viewer discretion is advised.

Warmth still flowed from the late afternoon sun, its light filtering down through wind blown branches to dance on the forest floor. You couldn't ask for a better atmosphere to read and a sort of giddiness filled Jackie. True, there were things about the city she missed but the suburban life wasn't all bad. Though it didn't quite fit into the rebellious brand she liked to attach herself to, Jackie had always loved the quiet, powerful beauty of nature. After a half hour of mostly aimless wandering she found what looked like a suitable place to sit and read. A sycamore tree had a branch growing close to its base, which provided both a seat and backrest. Neither was particularly comfortable but that didn't bother Jackie. Before a few minutes had passed she was absorbed in the pages of the story. Perhaps too absorbed. Surroundings faded away as her focus was on word's made of printer's ink, conjuring up images of the sea, ships, crews, and adventures of long ago.

 

Patrick picked his way through the sun-dappled woods, heart beating quickly in anticipation. He was on his way to Jackie’s house, either to catch glimpses of her or rummage through her room, depending on whether or not she was home. Not caring how much noise he made and not paying attention to the forest around him, he didn't actually see his quarry until he was about 70 yards away. Catching sight of her slender form propped against a tree he froze, waiting for her to see him or move, glance around, anything. But all she did was go on reading. He wasn't quite in the line of her peripheral vision but guessed even if he was she still wouldn't have observed him. Whatever book it was nestled in her lap, it had utterly captured all her attentions. Jackie wasn't someone he would have pegged as an avid reader; but what other kind of person would come to the forest to engross themselves in a story if not a bookworm? Regardless of any of that, the fact was his prey was making herself vulnerable, and this was an opportunity he wasn't going to waste. Slinking up to her he positioned himself just behind, peering over her shoulder with a wicked grin.

 

Jackie, her mind immersed in the tense argument between the crew members of the _Forward,_ found herself perfectly confused for a second as the book was pulled up and out of her hands. Understanding dawned as a voice whispered huskily just beside her ear.

“I didn't take you for a reader, new girl.”

A shiver involuntarily spread up her back as Patrick's warm breath tickled the side of her face. Immediately standing she turned to face him, arms crossed, head tilted to the side and wearing an expression both quizzical and irate. “I didn't take you for a stalker,” she retorted.

His smile widened as he offered the book back to her. “Your mistake. ” She was unsurprised when he snatched it away again as she reached for it. “Ah ah ah,” he chided. “If you want this you're going to have to give me something in return.”

Scoffing, she rolled her eyes. “I can't _possibly_ imagine what you'd want.”

Taking a few steps forward Patrick brought himself right up to her, their faces barely a foot apart. Folding his arms behind his back he gazed down at her with an eyebrow quirked. “And what do you think it is that I want?” he whispered.

She refused to step back from him, despite the discomfort at his being so close. But it wasn't _complete_ discomfort. Some part of her, some irrational, hormonal and completely _crazy_ part, couldn't help but be somewhat intrigued and even a little attracted to the domineering boy before her. Luckily the rest of her was smart enough to stay cautious. “I figure best case scenario: the most you want is my number.”

Tipping his head he brought up his free hand, grabbing her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I think you're smarter than that, though, aren't you?”

Shoving the boy away Jackie took a few steps back with a laugh. “There isn't a book in the world I want that badly.” Turning, she began to walk away. She only got a few paces before Patrick grabbed her by the arm, yanked her back and slammed her into the nearest tree. Both his hands clutched the crooks of her arms harshly. Struggling and straining, Jackie twisted against him to get free but reserved herself a little. Even if she could be relieved of his grasp there were a hundred ways for the situation to go south afterwards, and though she _might_ be stronger than him, outrunning those spindly legs felt unlikely. If he thought she was weaker than she actually was she could beat him.

With a few more lame but seemingly earnest attempts to loose herself, Jackie sighed in feigned defeat. Giggling at her vain efforts Patrick moved his face down to hers, their lips only inches apart. “All I was gonna ask for was one little kiss.” His voice dripped with malevolent delight as his body pressed into hers.

Trying not to grimace at the stink of breath wafting in her face, Jackie's mind worked towards a plan. One sprang to mind but her gut turned just imagining it. Instead she struck out with her head, aiming to slam it against his but Patrick seemed to be expecting this move; he easily dodged. “Old trick, Jackie,” he scolded, tongue clicking. “You used that one at the party last night. Why don't you try something different?”

Putting aside her misgivings about the first idea she returned his snarky smile. “Alright.” Not allowing for any time to react Jackie shifted her hand down to Patrick's crotch, wrapping her fingers around the bulge in his pants and squeezing mercilessly. Eyes wide he emitted a surprised moan while his hold on the girl slackened. After another firm press he let go, hands flung up in surrender. Jackie realized, with no small amount of disgust, his dick was actually stiffening under her grasp.

Breathing somewhat heavy, his laugh sounded winded. “This’s even better than what I wanted.” Face cut up in a grimacing sneer Jackie gave him another squeeze, digging her nails into what lie underneath the denim. Crying out in pain he gritted his teeth. “Fuck! You sure know how to show a guy a good time.”

Chuckling joylessly Jackie shook her head. “Fine, if that's how you're gonna be.” Once again her hand gripped harshly around his length but this time she didn't restrain any force. Mashing his junk in her palm mind-numbing pain shot through him. Jackie stepped back, planted her feet firmly, and drove her right fist forward. It was barely a blur before slamming into his nose. Left fist quickly following, Jackie brought it against his jaw with all the strength she could muster. It was a mean left hook. Falling to the ground Patrick gripped his groin in agony while blood slid down his nose to drip onto dirt. For good measure Jackie slammed her foot down on his crotch, which, luckily for him was still covered by his hands, then drove her foot against his ribs with ruthless force. Trotting over to the book Jackie picked it up, tapping the cover on Patrick's head as she passed. “Normally I'm not a fan of kicking someone when they’re down but I don't want you following me.” Stepping backwards and holding eye contact she shot him a smile before blowing a kiss his way. “See ya later, _loverboy_.” With a final wink she was off.

At first her pace was an easy trot but the stride quickened rapidly until she was fully sprinting. A few times she checked to ensure Patrick wasn't behind her. Most of her brain was screaming at her for provoking him with her snarky comments, the rest couldn't stop wondering what would have happened if she hadn't been able to stop him. No matter how frightened she was at the possibility of being pursued, her legs and lungs couldn't stand the strain of prolonged running. She'd always been like that, even from the time she was young. Nearly wheezing Jackie slowed her sprint to a brisk walk, checking over her shoulder every couple of seconds, half expecting to find a furious Patrick limping after her. That image was enough to give her nightmares. As her Aunt's backyard came into view a sigh of relief left her and somehow breathing seemed to come more easily with the comfort of home. Locking the back door behind her she was quick to do the same with nearly every door and window in the house.

“What on earth are you doing?”

Tabitha’s voice startled Jackie so much she sprang back against the living room window she was just locking. Attempting to regain her calm she brushed down the front of her shirt nonchalantly. Clearing her throat she assumed a bored expression. “Nothing.”

Lifting an eyebrow a smile twitched at the old lady's mouth. “Well, whenever you're finished with the nothing you're doing come into the dining room, supper’s ready.”

 

All that next morning Jackie found herself on edge, as though Patrick might be lurking somewhere nearby, watching, waiting until she was vulnerable. Finally, unable to stand the unease, she donned her jacket and headed to the drug store. She needed to get out of the house and her cigarettes were almost depleted anyway. Stuffing a few dollars in her pocket she headed out, ignoring the urge to check her surroundings for the long-legged freak. Before long the cool breeze and smells of freshly fallen leaves in the brisk air lulled her into a less anxious state. Jackie was in and out of the drug store in two minutes: candy she'd bought in one hand and the cigarettes she'd stolen tucked in her pocket. Pulling out the carton she became absorbed in packing it, turning into the alley way only to collide straight into a bicycle. Both her and the rider toppled over, his basket’s contents spilling onto tarmac. Jackie's palm slammed into the pavement, skidding along gravel and taking a huge chunk of her skin in the process.

“Fuck!” The exclamation echoed against the brick walls of the alley way as she sat up. Blood began to spring in little dots from the wound on her hand to spill down her wrist. Untangling herself from a wheel she looked at the boy who’d been on the bike, noticing the large, gaping scrape along the dark skin of his left arm. “Shit, that looks bad. You okay?” Offering him a hand he took it, wincing as he pulled himself up. He'd been in shorts and his knees were scraped as well, though not too badly.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” he answered dismissively. Righting his bike he started collecting the packaged meat. Obviously his fresh injuries were making it difficult, his hands shook with the simple effort of picking the meat up. Jackie was fast to help him.

“Sorry you got scraped up. Why were you going so fast?” She inquired, somewhat irritated.

Shrugging defensively he cast her an equally annoyed look. “I was trying to keep away from some jerks who were chasing me. Why weren't you looking where you were going?”

“... Fair enough. Listen, let me get some bandages and fix you up.”

He seemed hesitant, fingers gripping the bike’s handlebars as though he was considering just speeding off. Finally he relented. “Yeah, okay.” Placing his ride outside the drug store he followed just behind her.

Jackie paused a moment as they entered, turning to face the younger boy. “Go over to that last aisle there, I need something on the far shelf, on the side by the pharmacy. That's, uh, where the cotton balls are.” Nodding he followed her directions, only to realize there were no cotton balls, only over the counter medications. He was about to tell her as much when he noticed Mr. Keen, the store owner, glaring at him. Smiling politely he turned to check again; still no cotton balls.

“Can I _help you_ with something?”

“No sir, thank you.” Just as he was about to go back and look for Jackie the store owner spoke again. “Do you have any money?”

“No sir, I…”

“If you don't have any money I suggest you find somewhere else to cause trouble.”

Grimacing, the boy strode back the way he'd come, feeling very aware of how dark his skin was in the bright, luminescent white of the drug store. Jingling as though to mock him, the door’s bell signaled his exit.

“Hey kid, find those cotton balls?” Jackie grinned, a cigarette in her teeth and her arms full of not only cotton balls, but hydrogen peroxide, band-aids, and bandages.

He eyed her up and down warily. “They weren't where you said they'd be.”

“Grab your bike, will ya? We shouldn't loiter.” As they began walking back to the alley Jackie continued. “You want me to let you in on a little secret?” He nodded. “Some people deserve to be stolen from.”

“You _took_ those?!”

Seating herself on a old crate she motioned for the other boy to sit beside her. “You bet your ass I did.” Slowly taking a seat the shock remained on his features. “I told you to go back over by the counter because I knew he'd keep his attention on you, and while he was worried about some innocent black kid stealing I was slipping out the door with all this.”

Though he wasn't quite sure why, this angered him. “You shouldn't have used me like that.”

Pouring peroxide onto a cotton ball Jackie gently swabbed at his wound while he tried to keep still, wincing now and again at the contact. “Yeah,” she sighed.” Yeah, maybe not.”

Silence, both uncomfortable and tense, pervaded between the two as Jackie dressed his wound. The boy’s irritation with the high schooler bubbled down as he watched her bandage the injury in a careful, almost tender way. Taping the last strip around his arm Jackie got to her feet with a smile, taking a long drag off her cigarette as she surveyed her work. “All done. Now… right or left?”

Picking his bike from the wall he looked back to her, confused. “Huh?”

“Right or left?” she insisted.

“Uh, right I guess.”

Reaching to her right back pocket Jackie produced a snickers bar. “A peace offering, if you'll take it.” He reached out, eager for the sweet, then pulled his hand back. “Like I said before kid, some people deserve to be stolen from The only reason I was able to take this was because that asshole had his attention stuck on you for no reason other than the color of your skin. So I suggest you eat this candy bar and think about the fact that we didn't give that jerk any money.” This was more than enough persuasion; he took the chocolate without any more misgivings.

Sticking it in his own pocket he mounted his bike. “I gotta get the rest of this meat delivered or my dad’ll kill me. Thanks for fixing me up, uh,”

“Jackie.”

“Thanks Jackie.”

“No problem…?”

“Mike.”

“Well, Mike, nice to meet you. Good luck with your deliveries.” A smile sprang to Jackie's lips as she watched him stand on his bike, his legs working furiously to build speed. The smile quickly faded as a thought chilled her. _Five out of seven._ All the way home it repeated over and over, _Five out of seven, five out of seven, five out of seven… The turtle is spinning a thread connecting us…_

_Five out of seven._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


After she'd left him laying on the forest floor, Patrick had waited until his body felt ready to move again, made an appearance at home to ensure his parents thought he was in for the night, then immediately snuck out the bedroom window. All night he'd stood by the edge of the wood's at Jackie's Aunt's house, his mind consumed with an unhinged focus. Patrick was a tumultuous mix of blinding fury and sickening euphoria. Her challenging attitude, the fact she'd overpowered him in a _third_ confrontation _,_ the mockingly flirtatious wink she'd tossed back at him… all of it was so much more thrilling than he'd ever expected from her. He was beginning to feel invigorated in a way he hadn't in years. Many hours of the night had been passed with him furiously stroking his length, alternating between images of fucking Jackie and attacking her.

Jackie, underneath him, writhing and moaning as he plunged his cock inside her.

Jackie underneath him again, only now he was striking her head with a rock over and over while blood sprouted from her horrified eyes.

Jackie kneeling in front of him, wrapping her mouth around him and sucking him off until hot cum spilled down her throat.

Jackie laying under him as he thrust in and out of her while his fingers clenched around her throat.

 

When the dawn's first rays spread over the horizon to spill into Derry, Patrick's eyes were dark and heavy, his dick sore from masturbating. Sometime around midday he perked up from his exhausted slump against an oak as Jackie left the house, heading toward downtown. He wasted no time in shimmying up the tree to her room. It was locked but only by a latch. Picking a thin stick off the balcony he was able to wedge it in to lift the mechanism. Creaking in protest at his presence he pushed it inward. Unsure where to begin Patrick stood in the doorway, glancing around curiously. Over on the desk was the book she'd been reading before. Shuffling his spindly legs towards it he was about to take it when another book caught his eye: Watership Down. Opening it he immediately noticed an inscription on the inside cover.

“This is perfect,” he mumbled to himself as a devious grin coated itself on his drained features. Closing the book, he was just about to rummage through her drawers when footsteps approached the room. What he had would suffice for now. Slinking away he exited how he'd come in, gingerly but hurriedly closing the doors behind himself before clambering down the tree. After once again reaching the forest behind the house, he re-opened Watership Down to read the delicate, winding lettering there.

_To Jackie,_

_May you always be able to lose yourself in the written word. With all the love in the universe and more, Mom and Dad_

“Not a book in the world, huh? We'll see about that.”


	17. Derry High Guidance Counselor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out the students aren't the only people you have to worry about at Derry High

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kinda *eh*, to be honest. Just trying to set stuff up for later.

As the first rays of the Monday morning sun were streaming in her window, Jackie was just laying _The Adventures of Captain Hatteras_ on her bedside table. Neon green lights in the clock informed her it was 5:38. Not bothering to set an alarm she lay her head down across the pillow, falling immediately into sleep.

Nearly five hours later she was harshly awakened by Tabitha shaking her to and fro, yelling something she couldn't quite make out at first. “You have school today, get up! Get up! Hurry, I'll drive you!”

Groaning she tumbled out of bed while her great aunt left her to dress. Grabbing some clothes Jackie rushed to the bathroom. Uncaring of her Aunt's anger or being late to school she pulled off her pajamas, running the shower water until it grew hot before stepping in. Banging on the door failed to startle her; her aunt was becoming more agitated by her minute.

“Please _hurry_!”

“I'll be out soon!” she yelled back, her own irritation evident by the sharp twang of her voice.

Twenty minutes later she was sneaking through the school’s halls, doing her best to avoid being seen. Heading to the bathroom she decided waiting for her next class to start was better than entering mid-lecture. Cold porcelain chilled her as she sat on the closed lid, locking the stall door before pulling a cigarette from the squished carton on her inside jacket pocket. Flicking the lighter open she was about to light up when a voice startled her.

“Mind if I borrow that?”

It was coming from an adjacent cubicle. Lighting her own fag first she passed it under to the other girl, hearing the mechanical click and a deep inhiliation before it was handed back. Other than that brief interaction Jackie and the unseen girl sat in silence, smoke curling above both their stalls. As the bell rang through the halls to dismiss third period Jackie pinched the smoldering stick out to be tucked away for later. Hearing her leave, the other girl thanked her again for the borrow. “No problem. It’s just a lighter. See you around, I guess.”

 

Jackie was just entering her fourth period classroom, mind numb and only semi-conscious, when she glanced over the desks, already mostly full. Adrenaline shot through her veins, immediately electrifying her exhausted body. Turning quickly she barreled past the final trickle of her classmates to exit into the hall. Patrick must have skipped social studies her whole first week because she hadn't seen him in Mr. Docket’s room before, but today there he was, lanky body slouched in a seat at the back of the room. Glancing behind her down the empty hall she silently hoped he hadn't seen her as she hurried on. Maybe if she hadn't been so goddamn worn out her reaction to Patrick wouldn't have been to run off, tail between her legs, but she had no desire to deal with him that morning. Well, she never had _any_ desire to deal with him; no _energy_ to handle him was more accurate. Either way, skipping fourth seemed the best option at the moment. Jackie was just about to sneak behind the stairs to sit and wait for the next period when a voice startled her.

“Miss Burke, I believe?”

Smiling wryly she turned to face the speaker. “Yeah?” she asked as though she wasn't doing anything reprimandable.

The man before her looked to be in his late twenties, shoulders broad with an angular face and high cheekbones. Eyeing Jackie up and down he removed his glasses, wiping the lenses on his white shirt which seemed just a little too tight on his muscled body. Spectacles now clean he replaced them as he grinned down at her. “You wouldn't be skipping class now, would you?”

Lightly touching a hand to her chest she raised her eyebrows dramatically. “Oh, sir, I would _never_ skip class.”

“Oh, of course not,” he stated somewhat mockingly. “I've been wanting to speak with you anyway, why don't you come back to my office so we can chat?”

For a few seconds she considered simply saying ‘No’ and walking past him to ditch school altogether. But she was already in trouble and didn't particularly feel like making things any worse. Not today, at least. Grudgingly, she spat out a curt, ‘Fine’ before following behind him. As they arrived his office he held the door open for Jackie, allowing her in first. Shivers ran down her spine as he closed the door and took a seat. She couldn't quite place her apprehension but something in her gut commanded wariness.

“So,” he began, straightening a few stray papers on his meticulously organized desk. “I hear you haven't gotten off to the best start here at Derry High.” Leaning back in the chair Jackie allowed herself to sink down a bit, eyes glazing over in apparent boredom. Undaunted, he continued. “I know you've been a part of the foster system for a good deal of your life and I can only imagine how difficult that must have been for you. But that doesn't excuse getting into fights, skipping classes or coming in late to school.” Still, Jackie's expression revealed nothing. Her carefully trained mask of indifference was slipped on as easily as you'd put on a shoe. “Well, I want to make sure that you are noticed here, that you don't slip through the cracks.”

Leaning forward Jackie shifted his name plate so she could properly see it. _Arnold Reeves, Guidance Counselor_ . “Uh-huh. Yeah, listen Arnold, I appreciate your _earnest_ attempts to look after my well being and education as much as I appreciate anyone else's, but aren't you, y’know, keeping me from class right now? Just think of all the important learning experiences I'm missing.”

“Well, attending classes aren't always the most important thing-”

“You're not wrong about that.”

“-that you can do as a young person. I believe in teaching through making connections, learning through life experiences…” With this last statement he reached out a hand to rest atop one of hers, which still lay on the desk after picking up his name plate. “I want you to know that I'm here for you, no matter what you may need.”

Jolting her hand away Jackie cast him a barely masked look of disgust. “I gotta get back to class now, _Arnie_.” Abruptly standing, her chair skidded behind her as she strolled out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

There had been many times before when Jackie had sensed the evil in a man unwilling to rein in whatever sick urges happened to take hold of him. People wouldn't always believe her.

_‘He’s not like that.’ ‘But he's so nice.’ ‘It's all in your head.’_

Never once had she been wrong, no matter what other people said. And she knew what kind of man Arnold Reeves was after spending five minutes with him. A predator, a menace, someone to take advantage of anyone and everyone he could, especially young girls. If he thought he could manipulate her he'd find himself sorely mistaken. Suddenly, a memory popped into Jackie's head, a recollection from lunch that first day. Jenn, excusing herself from the table, Moira mentioning something about her father leaving Jenn’s family.

_‘Seems like you're in there all the time’… ‘She goes in to see Mr. Reeves all the time.’_

A chilling thought wormed its way into her mind then. Jackie wasn't easily taken in by kind words and manipulation, but Jenn? A parent had abandoned her, she was timid, people picked on her. She had all the makings of the perfect victim. _It's not my responsibility_ , Jackie argued with herself. _I don't have to do a damn thing_. Even as she internally bickered she knew. No matter how much she tried to talk herself out of it, she wasn't someone who could stand by and do nothing. Of course there wasn't a way to truly know what was going on between Jenn and the guidance counselor, Jackie would have to investigate the situation further. Whatever the situation was, her gut already told her it wasn't good.


	18. To the Library!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School projects are a bitch.

Lunch felt as though it came fairly quickly, but that was probably because Jackie effectively slept through her classes beforehand, too tired to even make an attempt at keeping her eyes open. Either the teachers didn't notice her little naps or simply pretended not to. Despite the money in her pocket she decided on sleep for lunch, head resting on folded arms. Somehow the buzz of conversation around her proved the perfect lullaby. Then again, she was so tired jackhammers would have been the perfect lullaby. Moira, Jenn and Cadence sat with Jackie, as they'd gotten used to doing, although now their conversations were whispered amongst one another so as not to wake her.

Bells ringing their dismissal about 30 minutes later, the three girls gathered their things, each heading to class. As Moira and Cadence exited the cafeteria Jenn noticed Jackie was still fast asleep. Striding quickly back over Jenn nudged her with dainty fingers.

Drool trailing down her cheek, Jackie sat up with a start. “Hhhhn, what? What?”

“Sorry, it's just… it's time for next period and you seemed like you were out cold.” As a lunch monitor began making their way over to the loiterers Jenn pulled the half-awake girl to the hallway. “Anyway, I needed to tell you, since you missed social studies this morning, you got assigned a partner for a class project.”

Eyebrow lifting Jackie looked down at Jenn with confused irritation. “... Okay, so…?”

“Well, uh, your assignment partner is Patrick.”

“So what? It's not like we're actually gonna work together on it. I'll do the project and hand it in, say Patrick didn't help, no problem.” Jenn was about to branch off to go to her own class when the dark-haired girl grabbed her arm. “Wait a minute, you're not in my social studies class. How'd you know all that?”

“Oh, well, uh, Cadence has a friend in your class, Sophia, who told her about it. Sophie’s kinda a gossip.”

“That really passes for gossip in this school? Project partners?”

Jenn shrugged. “It's been a slow week.” An awkward smile lifted the corner of her mouth at her own joke. But suddenly she grew serious, eyes latching onto the floor. “People have mostly been talking about what happened to Amelia.”

Jackie's thoughts lurched back to that horrid night in the Standpipe, to Amelia's screams, the monster, her own all-encompassing terror. Repression had become an art form but she could do nothing to fend off the memories when they were so directly shoved at her. With a lot of effort she hid the her building anxiety. The police had given out very little information regarding the case. Obviously no one was aware of Jackie’s involvement in the whole situation, otherwise there surely would have been a gaggle of people badgering her with questions all morning. Not wanting to dwell on any of this a minute longer, Jackie changed the subject. “Could you and Moira help me with whatever the fuck this social studies project is?”

Looking longingly at her classroom door, probably thinking about how the bell was going to ring any moment, Jenn hastily agreed. “I guess so. I'm sure Moira won't mind, but I gotta go. I'll meet you after school at your locker.”

“Fine. See ya then.”

Jackie didn't give a rat's ass about the project, but if she was going to find out more about what was going on between Jenn and the Guidance counselor she needed an excuse to interact with her.

 

After swinging by her social studies class to pick up the assignment, which was some bullshit about analyzing a social norm, Jackie found Moira and Jenn already at her locker.

“If it isn't sleeping beauty!” Moira greeted her. “Late night?”

“Yeah, I was busy fucking your dad,” Jackie spat back. She was still on edge from sleep deprivation and had coincidentally forgotten all Moira said during that first day about her father leaving when she was only a baby.

Grasping Jackie's shoulders dramatically Moira feigned excitement. “My GOD, you know where he _is_?” Turning her body she laid an arm across the lockers before resting her head on her elbow. “All these years, I've waited for him to return, and now he’s come back to us!” Flinging herself onto Jackie she grasped her in a hug. “Thank you for finding my father, thank you a hundred times over!”

Managing to pry her theatrical classmate off, Jackie slammed the locker door shut. “Alight, alright, enough already. Where are we going anyway?”

Leaping out in front of her friends, Moira nearly knocked several passersby over as she raised an arm into the air, finger pointing to some unknown spot in the distance. “To… the library!”

Conspiratorially leaning towards Jenn, Jackie whispered loud enough for the other to hear. “Tell your girl Moira if she doesn't get herself under control I'm gonna knock her teeth in.”

Hands snapping to her side Moira shrugged as all three entered the sea of students making for the school's entrance. “Duly noted. So my mom's gonna pick us up and take us to the library, we'll help get you started, find some books for research, then walk back to Jenn’s house to finish it up and have snacks. Oooh, and maybe watch some of the movies her brother just rented.”

Shielding her eyes against the sudden sunlight as they stepped outside the building, Jackie half-glared at Moira. “Do we have to finish the whole thing now? It's not due until Thursday.”

“True, but think of it this way: if we get it done today, you won't have to see us after school any other day this week.”

“Touché.”

Seated on a bench to wait for their ride, Moira chattered on to Jenn unceasingly. Jackie had just placed a cigarette between her lips and was about to reach for her lighter when one already lit slid up beside her as the boy holding it leaned against the back of the seat, his familiar voice purring into Jackie's ear. “Need a light, hot stuff?”

Focusing on the flame she held her Camel to it, inhaling deeply before turning her head to face the street, completely ignoring Patrick Hockstetter as she nonchalantly folded her arms.

Chuckling, he circled around to stand in front of her, his willowy frame blocking the sun to cast a dim shadow across her. Still she refused to throw even a darting glance his way. “You grab a guys dick one day and the next you don't even look at him? That hurts.”

Though she could only see them with peripheral vision, Jackie observed both Moira and Jenn snap their heads to stare, eyes wide in shocked curiosity. Leisurely, almost as though everything about the situation was entirely boring, her head tilted slowly to meet Patrick's dark, forbidding eyes. Slow and casual, she took a long drag of the cigarette to blow a puff of smoke at his face before answering. “First two ass-kickings were a free ride, Cockstetter. The kid gloves come off next time.”

Every word that dripped from Jackie's full, dark lips excited Patrick. Several images washed rapidly through his head, one in particular beginning to excite him.

_Jackie kneeling, fingers delicately unbuttoning in his pants._

“Don't make promises you can't keep, sugar tits,” he hissed, smile still plastered on.

_She slid his jeans down, her hands skimming his legs teasingly as she did._

“Listen, I love a meaningless verbal pissing contest as much as the next girl, but I've…”

_One of her hands trailed upwards again, stroking his length under his boxers._

“... got things to do today. So why don't you fuck off and we can pick this bullshit banter up later. I'm a bit tired at the moment.”

_Finally she eased his undergarment down, his erection springing out._

“But didn't you hear? We're project partners.”

_Eyes refusing to break contact with his she gripped his base as she took him into her mouth, tongue lapping greedily at his cock._

“For fuck’s sake, give it a _rest_ , Hockstetter. I obviously don't want or need your help and even if I did we both know you're not the homework type.” Now her voice grew eerily calm, sending a chill of anticipation through Patrick. “I'm _done_ talking to you. I'm tired. I'm pissed. I'm hungry. If you don't get out of my sight soon I'll use the brass knuckles in my pocket to re-arrange those teeth in that stinking mouth of yours.”

_Reaching a hand down to tangle in Jackie's hair, Patrick began to guide her head along as she gagged around him._

Jenn was staring at the grass at her feet, cheeks flushed pink as she desperately pretended she didn't exist. Moira looked at the two unabashedly, intrigued by their interaction. It wasn't until Patrick's hard on began to grow glaringly obvious that discomfort turned her gaze elsewhere.

Grinding his teeth ever so slightly he took a step towards Jackie, towering over her, still smirking. “One of these days I'm gonna teach that smart fucking mouth of yours to be more careful.” With this final threat he plodded off, a few suppressed chuckles trailing in the air behind him.

Just as Jenn was becoming consumed with regret at ever having laid eyes on Jackie, Moria’s mother pulled up in a dusty Volkswagen, honking the horn to get their attention. “Hey girls!” she shouted as she leaned across the seat towards the car's open window. “Let’s go!”

Looking up, the first thing Jackie noticed was how stunningly, drop dead _gorgeous_ Moira’s mother was. Her daughter took the passenger seat but Jenn pulled Jackie gently back from the rear door, voice barely a whisper as she spoke. “Just don't… say anything to Moira about how pretty her mom is.” With that she ushered Jackie in, both plopping down on the worn seats before Jenn closed the door behind them. A bit cryptic at first, the warning began to make sense as Jackie considered it. Moira was tall, awkward, not necessarily ugly but pretty average looking. Having a mother who, from the looks of her, was fairly young in addition to being far more beautiful had to sting a little.

“So, Jackie, it's nice to meet you. I've already heard a lot about you. I'm Mrs. Montgomery. Most people call me Mrs. M. though.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you,” Jackie mumbled as she rolled down the window to blow out a puff of smoke. For the next few minutes it was sort of like Jenn and a Jackie weren't even there. Moira and her mother were talking at about 1,000 words a minute, discussing every little detail of their day with one another.

 _Jesus, they barely even come up for air_ , Jackie mused.

Suddenly Mrs. Montgomery’s eyes caught Jackie's through the rear view mirror. “You moved here from New York, right?”

“Mhmm.”

Rolling her eyes irritably Moira cut her mother off before she could ask more questions. “Muh- _ooomm_ , you don't need to interrogate her. Just let her alone, for goodness sake.”

Raising her hands defensively she shrugged. “I know it _embassases_ you when I pester your new friends with questions but it's a mom's right to know who her only child is hanging out with.”

“I was in and out of foster homes in New York since I was 11, but my social worker found out I have an Aunt here and she agreed to take care of me.”

“See, honey? Your friend gave me all that information freely.”

Hunching down in her seat, Moira crossed her arms before growing uncharacteristically quiet.

A sudden and unexpected pang of sadness shot through Jackie as she observed interaction of mother and daughter. _You don't know how lucky you are,_ she thought as a lump formed in her throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually had this one done ~before~ Saturday. It's almost 2,000 words and yet, somehow, nothing really happens. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Hope you enjoyed it, things are going to pick up again soon.


	19. That's What They Call Pulling a Jasmine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackie lands herself, as well as Jenn and Moira, in hot water when she makes some snide remakes to the Bowers gang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuugh, late AGAIN. Oh well, what am I gonna do, actually update when I said I would? Yeah right.  
> No but actually, I'm really gonna try to stay consistent from now on.

The Derry public library put the one Jackie frequented in New York to shame. It had been run down, full of worn, fading, and shambled books. But here… the magnificent brick building, which, granted, she'd only seen from a distance until now, immediately impressed her. Something about it felt old, the way she thought a library ought to feel. Stepping inside a shiver ran up her spine at the sight of all those books, neatly laid across a plethora of shelves. She'd never been in a library which had multiple stories, either. Nonetheless, a steady expression of trained disinterest hid any sign of her wonderment.

With some assistance from a librarian the three girls were quickly shifting through index cards to find suitable books for the project. Moira and Jenn were, anyway. Jackie only feigned the activity, her eyes glazed over in boredom as she pointlessly picked through the small, tattered cards. Finding a few potentially useful sounding titles they split up to find them. After Moira and Jenn had found a seat at a table with their research material they waited for Jackie to arrive. When she didn't show up after a few minutes they good-naturedly began without her.

Rather than search for volume 2, issue 8 of _Dr. Johnson’s Deconstruction of Society_ Jackie wandered around the labyrinth of shelves, enjoying the quiet atmosphere. A smile sprung unbidden to her lips while her fingers ran along the spines of various novels, huddled close together along the wooden ledges smelling ever so faintly of pine. All too soon the familiar voices of the girls who she’d come with could be heard whispering nearby. _Might_ _as well join them now_ , she thought. _It's supposed to be my project anyway._

 

Jackie didn't fail to notice how willing Jenn and Moira were to all but complete the project for her. By the time she first sat down with them, without the book she'd been supposed to find, an outline had already been made. A number of useful passages and pages were marked, a rough draft just beginning, and not once did they check to see Jackie was doing her fair share. Oddly enough, this actually caused her to want to be more helpful. Forty minutes passed with barely a hushed conversation as pencils scribbled and Moira’s leg bouncing restlessly. Softly turning pages filling the air around the three girls.

Jenn and Jackie jumped slightly as Moira purposefully slammed a rather large book shut. Someone close to them angrily shushed her but she could barely keep her voice down. “Jackie, you haven't known me that long, so I feel I should point this out, but never in my time as a speech capable person have I been so quiet for almost an hour, so I hope you’ve appreciated it. Now let's return these and get the hell out of here. If I sit still too much longer I may actually implode and take this whole town with me.”

“It'd be an improvement,” Jackie mumbled tersely.

As they stepped back out through the large oak doors into the late afternoon Jackie ignored Moira’s chattering, becoming lost in her own thoughts. She even failed to hear the car come roaring up behind them as they sidled down Kansas Street, the driver revving the engine as he approached. It wasn't until Henry leaned out the window to yell at them that Jackie turned towards Belch's trans am, now creeping at a steady pace beside them.

“Hey ladies! Need a ride?”

Patrick popped up beside him, leaning towards the front window from his place in the back. “I got a special seat for ya!”

“I'll give you a ride you won't forget!” Henry shouted, eyebrows raised suggestively.

Moira immediately clammed up, shifting her eyes uncomfortably between the sidewalk and store windows; anywhere but at the Bowers gang. Jenn’s hand reached for the edge of Moira’s t-shirt, holding it in a death grip while she fixed her gaze resolutely to the cement at her feet. Jackie merely laughed, fixing the two boys in an icy glare.

“A ride I wouldn't forget, huh?” Pulling a cigarette from her pocket she lit it nonchalantly. “And how long would that be? Four minutes? But hey, at least you're consistent: you screw as many minutes as your dick is long.”

Patrick guffawed at this insult, his mouth hanging open in an exaggerated manner as he turned to see Henry's reaction.

The lecherous smile Henry had worn only seconds ago disappeared, replaced by a tight lipped frown as his eyes raged at her. Even before he began moving out of the car Jackie knew what was about to happen.

“Fuck. Girls, I think it's time to run,” Jackie murmured past her cigarette, pulling Jenn and Moira along as Henry, Patrick and Vic piled out of the trans am. Rubber screamed across road as Belch sped off. Jackie wasn't sure what his intentions were or where he was going but she didn't want to find out.

Henry's voice bellowed after them as he gave chase. “You're dead bitch! You hear me? You and your friends are fucking dead!”

“You better just _hope_ we don't catch you!” Vic warned.

Steps thundering down the sidewalk Jackie hurriedly yanked the other two down the road, past a number of shops. Towering warehouses to their right cast long shadows across their path; Jackie pulled Jenn and Moira into the space between two. A single door was partially propped open. Flinging the entrance wider they barreled in. Kicking hard Jackie dislodged the rock which had held the entrance open, glad to hear it click shut behind. Tentatively glancing around she led the other two down a random hallway, hoping to escape out the front while the boys searched around the side. File cabinets, metal desks, even the walls they passed were speckled with signs of wear and rust. Each slowing their pace they came to the building’s front. Wide windows, most with broken glass, gave them a view of the street. Patrick had been left to guard the front, brows knit together as he kept a carefully trained eye on the warehouse.

His vigilance payed off: he caught sight of the back of Jackie's head, long hair flowing behind her while she trailed behind Moira and Jenn, hoping to come across another exit. They didn't see but rather heard the crash of glass as it was knocked aside to gain Patrick entrance. Yelping in fear Moira sprinted down the nearest hall, tugging the not-so-fast Jenn behind her. Just as the two girls disappeared around a bend Jackie became aware of several pairs of boots following hot on her heels; she wasn't as quick as the others. Adrenaline gave her a burst of speed but it just wasn't enough. A firm hand grasped her collar, yanking back hard enough to land Jackie on her tailbone. Scrambling she tried to stand but was instead pulled upwards and shoved into the wall as Henry and Patrick planted themselves beside her. Vic ran on to chase down the other two.

 _Good luck catching them_ , she thought mockingly.

Her attention was quickly brought back to her own tormentors as Patrick plucked the cigarette out of her mouth. Her camel had survived the chase up until then but now sizzled dully as the lanky boy extinguished it just beside her head. As the crumpled stick was dropped carelessly to the floor both his hands held mercilessly tight to her left arm.

Taking the scruff of her leather jacket Henry brought his face uncomfortably close. “You had a lot to say before, don't clam up now,” he spat through clenched teeth.

“Sorry, I'm just trying not to breath the same air as you,” Jackie huffed. She almost regretted the comment as Henry grabbed a fistful of hair only to slam her head into the wall she’d been backed against. With a slight groan of pain her skull began to throb.

Giggling, Patrick wrapped his fingers tighter around her forearm, pressing into her ever so slightly. “What're we gonna do with her, Henry?”

Letting go of the clump of hair he'd taken hold of Henry smiled grimly, rummaging in his back pocket before producing a switchblade. “Maybe we should cut some of that long, pretty hair off…” A sharp _clink_ emphasized this threat as cold metal sprung from the handle.

Another giggle erupted from Patrick; Jackie turned to glower at him but Henry was swift to pull her attention back. Placing the side of his knife against her jaw he turned her to face him. “What d’ya think of that Jackie? We'll just give that nice long hair a good trimming, cut it right down to the scalp.”

“It’d save me a trip to the barber,” Jackie laughed, although the sound was hollow and insincere.

“We could cut up her pretty face,” Patrick offered, his delighted smile causing shivers to wrack her spine.

“Or…” Henry began, forcing his right knee in between her legs so he was practically straddling her. He moved his face even closer to Jackie's, the side of his blade still pressed against her jaw. “maybe she could just apologize for saying such awful lies about me.”

“Aw gee Henry, I'm sure sorry for saying you got a small dick and no stamina in bed, I'll never say it again. Can I go now? Pretty please?” Her smile was ridiculous and exaggerated, knowing she was probably just angering the boy further.

“That's not the kind of apology I had in mind.” His lips were almost touching hers now. Patrick’s characteristic grin slipped away, expression now showing his intent focus with whatever was about to happen. Grappling briefly she found that, although the boys struggled somewhat to keep hold of her, she wasn't strong enough to break away from the both of them. Henry was pressed firmly against her and Patrick's nails were digging imprints across her skin.

Jackie’s lip curled up into a snarl as she felt Henry’s cock, slowly stiffening, press into her right leg, still held between his own. “Seems like you're awful excited about this apology," she mocked, a cold chuckle emanating from her throat.

That was when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye from somewhere beyond Patrick's head. Moira was peeking around the corner she'd disappeared behind only moments ago, a large rock clasped firmly in hand. As she raised an arm to throw Henry began following Jackie's line of vision. Not wanting to give away her rescuer she did the only thing she could think of. Henry’s eyes snapped back to Jackie as her soft lips met his, her tongue teasing against his pursed mouth as she closed her eyes. Moving his hand from her jacket’s collar to instead grasp her hip he turned his head slightly, running his own tongue against hers. She was surprised by how soft the kiss was at first but Henry rapidly became rougher and more forceful, the slightest groan vibrating against her mouth. His hand at her hip began to snake under her shirt, slowly feeling the soft skin of her stomach before it began moving upwards. His other hand still held the switchblade against her face so when another set of fingers began groping at her left breast she knew they belonged to Patrick. Eyes flying open she saw Moira still standing there, face twisted in utter horror and disgust.

Tongue continuing to explore Henry's mouth Jackie glared daggers at the girl around the corner. _Throw the damn rock_ , she shouted internally. But Moira understood. Taking careful aim she flung the rounded object with a strength few would expect. Not only was she strong: her projectile hit its mark literally head on. Patrick recoiled as blood slid down the back of his skinny neck, beginning to stumble slightly as he touched shaking fingers to the spot on his head that had been hit. Henry turned to look at his friend, now on the ground. His grip loosened and that was more than enough to allow Jackie to break free. Shoving roughly she succeeded in extricating herself but not before the knife cut a thin line across the bottom of her face. Plucking up the same rock that hit Patrick Jackie faced Henry just long enough to lob it at him. A satisfying ‘ _Oof_ ’ fell from his mouth as it thudded into his stomach. Not wasting a single second Jackie followed Moira, who led her to another side door, opposite of the way they'd entered through. Jenn was already outside. Actual tears slipped down her cheek, partially born of fear, partly of relief at seeing the other two emerge. Vic, who had lost Moira and Jenn by accidentally taking the wrong corridor in an attempt to find them, had looped around just in time to see the three fleeing down an alley. For a moment he debated going after them but thought better of it at the sound of Henry and Patrick groaning down the hall. He'd never be able to catch them and even if he could, there was no way he could take down Jackie, nevermind her _and_ Moira. For now they'd have to cut their losses.

 

All three girls were breathing hard as they turned from Kansas Street onto West Broadway. Jackie was doing her best to keep the blood from trickling down her face onto her clothes and Jenn’s eyes were open wide in terror at what they'd just barely escaped but Moira seemed giddy.

“Wow that was crazy. Holy _crap_ Jackie, I can't believe you actually kissed him!”

Horrified, Jenn glanced up to Jackie questioningly, though she didn't say anything.

“If you breathe a word of that to anyone, _anyone,_ I'll beat the piss out of you.”

“Hey man, no judgements here. You did what you had to. Henry probably would have seen me if you hadn't… kept him occupied.” At this Moira burst into hysterical laughter so infectious Jackie and Jenn couldn't help but smile. After finally regaining control of her speech Moira turned to Jenn, wiping a tear from her eye as the last of her snickering died down. “Not what we expected when we said we'd help Jackie with her project, huh?”


	20. Troubling Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan makes a reappearance and later Jackie notices the dissappearance of something else.

“... And I grab a rock from the alleyway. ‘Jenn, wait outside for me to come back with Jackie and run if one of the boys see you’ I say.” Moira’s arms gestured excitedly as she reiterated the story they'd all just been a part of. Reaching her house, Jenn held her front door open for the other two while Moira continued after seating herself on her friend's living room couch, now addressing Jenn rather than Jackie. 

“I go back in fully expecting to see Jackie being torn apart by Henry and Patrick. I peek around the corner only to see they have her pinned. Luckily she saw me but Henry started turning to follow where she was looking…” Pausing dramatically Moira surveyed her audience. Jenn seemed to know where the story was headed but still wore a shocked expression. Jackie’s arms were crossed and she was hunched down slightly in her spot on the sofa. “So Jackie  _ kisses _ him to keep him from noticing me. Patrick had his back to me, and thank goodness for that, because if he'd seen me… Well, who knows what would have happened. Anyway he seemed  _ really  _ interested in what was going on with Jackie and Bowers. And let me tell you, she was committed to keeping him occupied. I mean she just got in there.”

“I recommend you wrap this story up real soon, Moira.” Jackie's teeth were gritted behind a rather unpleasant smile.

“Right. Anyway, I'm too horrified to do anything at first until Jackie’s eyes fly open to stare me down, like, ‘Throw the rock before I kill you.’ So I pull my arm back and I throw this sucker. It hits Patrick square in the back of his grimy little head; he’s on the ground, Henry is looking over at him all confused because he's still coming down from what was apparently an  _ amazing  _ kiss, Jackie shoves him off her then  _ she  _ picks up the rock to throws it at him. And it gets him right in the gut! Oh man, the look on his face.” Moria began giggling at the memory. “I will never forget today as long as I live. Which, granted, may not be very long because the Bowers gang are going to murder me the next chance they get. But…” she sat back against the seat, allowing her muscles to relax as she finished the story. “it'll be worth it.” 

Silent and pondering at the revelation of Moira’s conclusion, all three sat there, contemplating what (inevitable) troubles attacking the Bowers gang would result in. Jackie still held a dirty hand to her jaw, blood from the cut Henry's knife left beginning to pool in her palm. 

“Someone wanna get me a napkin or something?”

Jenn bolted up, immediately remembering the other girl's wound and making for the kitchen. “Right, sorry.”

Hearing the front door open and close Moira jumped up to see who’d come in. “Oh, hey Logan.”

“Logan…?” Jackie muttered, wondering if this were the same Logan she'd become acquainted with at the party over the weekend. 

“Hey girls what's…” he entered the living room then, hands full of grocery bags, seeing Jackie on the couch clutching her bleeding face. “... up?”

Jenn reappeared with a wad of paper towels. “Oh, Logan. This is…”

“Jackie. We've actually met before.” A sort of impish half-smile crossed his face. “And what have you been up to today?”

Grabbing the napkins from Jenn Jackie place them gingerly across the cut. “Nothing particularly interesting. How's your day been?”

“Just some grocery shopping. I'm gonna, uh, put these away and then take a look at that not-particularly-interesting cut on your face and you can tell me all the boring details of how you got it.”

 

Jackie sat on the tiled kitchen counter, Logan positioned in front of her, intently cleaning bits of dirt out with peroxide and a cotton swab. Doing her best not to flinch or move her jaw Jackie recounted the tale of their run in with the bullies, carefully omitting the part about sucking face with Henry. 

“You're lucky you got away with just this little slice. I hate Bowers and his idiot friends as much anybody else in this town but mouthing off to them isn't the best idea.”

“What, you afraid of them? Aren't they all younger than you?”

He paused in his dabbing to cast Jackie a dubious glare. “No and yes. You seem tough but if they all decide to gang up on you there won't always be somebody around to help. And, by the way, by being such a smartass to them you've probably landed my sister on their shit list, and Moira’s definitely going to be a target now.” Band-Aid in hand Logan carefully peeled away its paper before placing it delicately over her cut. “Still, I would have loved to see their faces when you two hit them with that rock.”

“Moira almost seemed to enjoy the whole thing, she won't shut up about it.”

Logan followed Jackie's glance into the living room, where Moira and Jenn were huddled around the coffee table working on homework. “She's got a bit of a crazy streak in her. In a good way, I mean. Most people wouldn't guess but she's tough as nails.”

“No kidding.”

Leaning back to survey his work, Jenn’s older brother shrugged. “That's the best I can do for now. You're gonna need stitches. But, on a lighter note, my band got booked for a gig this weekend. Our guitarist will already have moved by then so I was hoping you might be interested in playing with us?”

“Where's it at?”

“Just a house. Nothing too official. I'm using the term ‘gig’ pretty loosely.”

“In other words I wouldn't get paid?”

“Pretty much. But I'll be there, that's gotta be worth something.” With this last statement he flashed Jackie a smile, causing and uncharacteristic flutter in her stomach. 

Covering her school girl like excitement she raised an eyebrow, grinning with a supercilious air, head tilted to the side. “Worth something? Yeah, maybe, if I'm being generous. Why don't you sweeten the deal a little and I'll consider being your guitarist.”

Hand to his chest Logan feigned indignation. “You mean my presence isn't enough? Jackie, you wound me. I guess patching you up doesn't earn me any goodwill?”

“I could have done this myself. A trained monkey could do this itself.”

Leaning forward Logan rested his hands across Jackie's knees. “How about I treat you to dinner?” 

Even though she was on the counter Logan was tall enough to be at eye level with her. “Fine. I'm always up for free food.” Her tone conveyed near indifference but she couldn't quite hide enthusiasm from her voice. 

“Great,” he breathed, almost dismissively. “So, it's a date then?”

With a huff and embellished eye roll she hopped down from the counter. “Sure, if you want to call it that, you can say it's a date when you write about it in your diary tonight.”

Replacing the bandaids in their cabinet he shook his head at her mockery, teeth flashing as he smiled at her. And there they were again, the butterflies in her gut. Something about him was drawing Jackie in against all better judgement. 

Taking note of the way her hips moved as she walked Logan followed behind Jackie to the living room where his sister still worked studiously on her homework while Moria distracted her. Placing himself very close beside Jackie on the couch he nudged her with one broad shoulder. “I like to call it a journal.”

 

Smells of roasted, seasoned meats wafted to Jackie as she entered her aunt’s house. Somewhat crumpled, her completed social studies project, rolled up, was clutched carefully in her palm. Oddly enough the successful conclusion of the assignment had given her motivation to get started on catch up homework she owed for several classes since she'd entered the school year late. Grunting a brisk hello to her aunt Jackie hurried to her room. Motivation to work she had but focus… not so much. 

Logan insisted on driving Jackie home following the completion of everyone's studies, reasoning that the Bowers gang could be lurking around. Unsurprisingly Jackie required little persuading from the tall, roguishly handsome blonde. Conversation flowed smooth and natural during the entire ride. They'd even sat outside Tabitha’s house a few moments, enjoying the easy back and forth that had formed. Logan was so unlike anyone Jackie had known before. Friends she'd had, of course, and she loved them, of course, but there was always so much involved in her relationship with all of them. Addictions, unreliability and criminal habits had always been characteristics of those she surrounded herself with. But Logan, who had graduated high school, who had been accepted to a good college, who had returned shortly after going away to take care of his family after his father’s absence. Logan who had his own car (which he paid for), who had a steady job and an honest, hard working way about him… he was so different. And yet not too different. It wasn't like he was some goody goody. Mischievousness and a knack for getting into the best kinds of trouble were a part of him too, as she'd seen at the party and heard from some of the stories he'd briefly recanted for her on the drive to Tabitha’s house. He was enough to drive any girl crazy. 

Chair whining across wood Jackie scooted it back from the desk and her assignments, giving up on actually accomplishing anything. Her brain was humming with excitement and more than a little trepidation and anger at her own, rapidly growing enamour with Logan. Toppling onto her bed Jackie pressed her headphones against her ears, hoping the blaring sounds of heavy metal would be enough to distract her from the incessant parade of thoughts in her head. For a few minutes it nearly worked but then that too failed her. Irritable and strangely anxious she paced restlessly around the room, internally arguing all the reasons why Logan wasn't particularly special and why it was stupid to form attachments to someone she'd just met. Finding all else failing, Jackie decided to turn to something that almost never let her down: books. And the particular book she had in mind  _ hadn't  _ ever let her down. Once again going to her desk Jackie began rummaging around for the familiar, sandy brown cover. 

But it wasn't on the desk. It wasn't in the drawers or on the nightstand. Her backpack didn't contain it either. Now all thoughts of Logan slipped from her mind, rapidly replaced with growing panic shooting through her chest, down into every finger and toe. 

Tearing through the room furiously Jackie searched every possible and impossible place it could be. Still, nothing. She searched downstairs. Nothing. The bathroom, unsurprisingly, did not have the book either. Jackie became frantic, worried tears springing to her eyes. Barreling into the kitchen she demanded to know what Tabitha had done with it. Confused and even a little frightened Tabitha assured her grand-niece she hadn't even been in Jackie's room, let alone taken anything out. Sprinting up the stairs she tore through her aunt's room, certain it must be hidden there somewhere. Again, nothing. 

Sobs were beginning to escape her throat. She whipped open the back door, running into the woods. When she'd gone into the woods to read she  _ knew _ she'd only taken  _ The Adventures of Captain Hatteras  _ yet still she searched the spot where she had sat down to read only a few days ago. Nothing but decaying leaves, sticks, bugs crawling through dirt and lichen. 

Exasperated beyond all sense and words Jackie slammed her fists across the rough bark of a maple tree in quick succession before collapsing to the ground, a pathetic heap of a girl. Her most prized possession, the most wonderful book she'd ever read, the only tangible remnant of her parents- of that other wonderful life which had been burned away so many years ago, was gone. Watership Down was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say a huge, HUGE thank you to everyone who's been reading, commenting, and leaving kudos. You guys make me one happy girl!


	21. Honey Badger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three against one is unfair, but Henry, Patrick and Victor don't really care about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not thrilled with how this came out. I want to re-work it a bit but I also wanted to update on time, so here it is.

Eyes peeling open with the buzzing of her alarm clock Jackie grabbed hold of it, ripping the cord out of its socket before hurling the entire thing against the wall. Covers flung aside she pulled on her clothing hurriedly, nearly ripping the current holes in her jeans open further. Thoughtlessly pulling her jacket’s zipper up and down she descended the stairs, keds slamming down on every step, not bothering with breakfast. She didn't usually walk to school but she had no patience for an absent minded aunt at the moment. Blurred and distant her surroundings barely registered in her mind. All she could think about was her missing book. Sadness would well up every few steps but Jackie carefully replaced it with rage, emotions a stormy whirlwind inside her. She was in no mood to deal with anyone else's bullshit. In fact she found herself looking for something to really set her off, something or someone her aggression could be turned on. Unfortunately such an opportunity would arise before the day had ended. 

 

Henry hated sticking around after the last bell rang. Usually he'd leave early by a half hour or more with Victor and Patrick. But not this afternoon. After the events of the previous day he'd sworn Jackie and her friends would pay. Though he didn't admit it to himself, his anger was in large part due to being unable to stop thinking about his kiss with Jackie. Multiple times throughout the night he'd gotten up, tired of tossing and turning in bed, heading to the bathroom to jack off, which barely relieved any of his frustration as images of the new girl permeated his mind. No bitch was going to insult him, give him blue balls and chuck a rock at his gut without getting comeuppance. That little cunt would pay, or his name wasn't Henry Bowers. Patrick and Vic had both agreed to wait for Jackie with him, help chase her down if necessary. Belch claimed he would be working late and therefore unable to join them. The plan was to keep behind her until she was somewhere quiet and secluded then jump her. Originally his plan had been to beat the ever-living shit out of her but Vic had talked him down. They'd get her alone and scare her real good. After all, there was more than one way to strike fear into a person. 

Henry and Victor were both still under the impression that Jackie's tough demeanor was an act, nothing more than false bravado. In all their previous encounters with her other people had been around to offer some form of protection. Only Patrick guessed at her true ferocity, both due to the punches she'd thrown his way the first day they met, their encounter at the party and because of the incident in the forest. But he would gladly join his friends. Stalking Jackie, waiting to get her when she was all alone… that was exactly his idea of a good time. Four out of four times she'd bested him, twice despite the fact he'd had Henry or Victor with him. But not again. Her luck was about to run out in a big way. 

 

Oddly enough, Jackie's angered devastation caused the day to slip by quickly. No one spoke to her. Most people avoided even looking at her as rage spilled off her in waves. She skipped lunch so as to avoid seeing her ‘friends’ or having them sit by her during the meal period. Hunger added cold chunks of ice to the the ever growing storm of wrath frothing through her veins. Normally she would have noticed the three boys leaning against the school’s sun-warmed brick just beside the entrance but fury was giving her tunnel vision. Victor was the only one who followed behind Jackie with any trepidation. He could clearly see she was pissed beyond measure. Henry and Patrick matched her emotions more closely; all they felt as they stalked behind the girl was a sort of sick anticipation of the confrontation soon to come. 

As if in some unspoken agreement all three sidled stealthily closer to Jackie as she neared the kissing bridge. Patrick and Victor wrapped their hands forcefully around her arms on each side. Brief confusion devolved to a tempest of outrage. Immediately going limp Jackie brought Patrick and Victor partway down with her. Correctly judging Vic to be the weaker of the two she wretched her arm away. Unprepared and surprised his fingers slipped and the arm was free. Reaching inside her leather jacket Jackie looped the fingers of her right hand through the brass knuckles, cold and hard. Standing to her full height she turned to Patrick, lashing out. Had Henry not tackled her at that moment she most likely would have broken Patrick's jaw. Still, her fist partially connected with its target to deal him a nasty strike. With her right cheek and chest colliding into the road’s tarmac Jackie felt the wind leave her lungs. Henry straddled her back, using her temporary enfeeblement to pin her arms behind her back. 

She was at his mercy. Much as she twisted and struggled she couldn't get free. Henry stayed atop her, enjoying the futile attempts to loose his hold. Victor and Patrick stood over the two of them. Victor wore a look of smug amusement at the sight of her prone form. Luckily for Jackie she couldn't see Patrick's stare, twisted up in a devilish smile while his eyes bore all the cold, derisive enjoyment of a child who's just been given permission to smash a toy. 

“Maybe we shoulda brought some rope for this slippery little cunt,” Henry huffed. 

“Next time,” Patrick cooed, kneeling down and turning his head as he lightly brushed Jackie's hair out of her face. He giggled as she bit out at him. “Wild little creature, isn't she?” Knotting one sweaty hand into the soft locks at the back of her head Patrick brought his face down even closer to hers. “Save the biting for later, sweetheart.”

“Fuck you!” she spat, her voice feral, guttural. Like water boiling in a sealed container the pressure of her anger begged release. 

With her wrists still seized between his own hands Henry too leaned down to Jackie, his lips almost brushing her ear. “Careful how you talk to us, bitch.”

“What are we gonna do with her?” To the untrained ear Victor’s question would have sounded as though it were excited but he was beginning to grow fearful of what the other two were planning. 

“We never finished what we started in the warehouse.” Henry's voice had grown oddly soft, almost obscenely tender. 

“Not used to a girl finishing first, huh?” Sometimes Jackie hated the way she always seemed to say the exact wrong thing and escalate a situation but today there was not even so much as a trace of remorse. Today there was only ice in her veins. 

With some assistance from his friends Henry hauled Jackie to her feet, but not before pulling out his switchblade to press into her back, a warning against trying anything stupid. Nodding in the direction of the Barrens Patrick and Victor complied, yanking her along while Henry held his knife against her from behind. As they neared the short wooden fence separating the road from the tangled underbrush beyond it something other than anger flushed through Jackie: fear. It was small but she couldn't shake it. Something inside told her the situation was bad, worse than any of her other interactions with them. Not wanting to find Henry's knife digging into her back any further but also wanting to postpone whatever they had planned Jackie slumped a little, causing her feet to drag as the boys hauled her along. Once they reached the divider she was turned to face Henry, her back to the lush vegetation behind. As Jackie turned her hostile glare on Bowers he himself wasn't sure exactly what his plan here was. 

Jackie didn't seem frightened, far from it. Everything they did only seemed to anger her further. Then, suddenly, an idea slithered into his head, sinister in its simplicity. With a crooked smile he put his knife away. Fists up he pulled one back before slamming it hard against Jackie's head. Right, left, right, right. She couldn't hide it; she was obviously dazed. Motioning to his friends he indicated they should release their hold. Grabbing Jackie's leather collar on either side Henry brought her now bleeding face close to his, her already blurring vision distorting his pug nose, tanned skin and hazel eyes. “Run,” he whispered. Without warning he lifted her slightly off the ground only to shove her down over the fence and into the Barrens. She just had time to scramble to her feet after the tumble to glance back up at the three boys before they jumped the fence to give chase. 

_ ‘Fuck’  _ incoherently rattled around her head as she sprinted through the thick undergrowth before her. 


	22. Tooth and Nail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Strange things are happening to me, ain't no doubt about it"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter feels like it jumps around a lot. ¯\\_(ツ)_/ ¯

Breathing never seemed so difficult. Staying infuriated had been fairly easy for Jackie up until Henry tossed her over the fence into the Barrens, only to run after with Victor and Patrick in tow. There was something so primitively terrifying about being chased. Jackie had never been a good runner and adrenaline would only keep her ahead of them for so long. Sometimes she'd hazard a glance over her shoulder, and each time the vision of the boys tearing through the underbrush, growing ever closer, renewed her rising panic. Logs and branches across the path threatened to trip her up or knock her over. But slowing down wasn't an option. Animalistic howls, threats and warnings from the Bowers gang alerted her to the rapidly diminishing gap between hunters and their prey.

_We're gonna fuck you up!_

_You can't run forever!_

_You scared now?_

_Run while you can you fucking cunt!_

It was this last taunt that began to cool her fear. ‘Cunt’ stirred up memories of her uncle Raymond, the way he'd called her that as his meaty fists slammed across her face, torso and gut. _‘You never listen you little cunt’_ , _‘Cunts who take food without asking get punished’, ‘Come over here, you little fucking cunt.’_ She hated that. She loathed, abhorred and _despised_ it. Realization began to spread through her scattered mind as she continued her insane speed.

If she ran from them now they'd catch her, and then the running would never cease. For as long as she lived here they'd chase her, abuse her, treat her like a little toy they could bend and prod until she broke. That wasn't who she was, not anymore, not since she'd killed her uncle. She wouldn't let them break her. Nobody broke Jackie Burke. Terror still coiled around her heart and lungs but now chilly determination slowed her pace. Keeping an ear open to the three tearing through the woods Jackie searched for a branch, heavy enough to deal damage but small enough to be swung quickly. As she lifted a suitable bough to rest on her shoulder she positioned herself behind a broad tree and waited.

She didn't have to wait long.

Henry, unlucky as he was, was the fastest. He reached her hiding place first, a few trees over and to the left.

“Hey Henry!” Her shout, so close behind and so unexpected, was enough to trip him up. In his confusion and surprise he turned, falling over his own feet. The instant he hit the ground Jackie was beside him.

With the branch held above her head, ready to be brought down, she caught his eye and smiled. “Congratulations, you found me.” With a dull thud the makeshift weapon slammed across his forehead, splitting the skin to release warm streams of blood. Somewhat dumbfounded Henry lifted a hand to his bleeding head, brows furrowed in an idiotic look of perplexion. Lifting her foot she swung it back before bringing it against his stomach hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Gasping exclamations of his pain echoed from tree to tree. Before being able to unleash another kick Patrick, now caught up, grabbed her from behind. Surprisingly strong, he constrained her arms against her torso. Releasing the branch she grappled against him. Her legs flung wildly as she grunted with the effort. But she was slim enough to allow Patrick to enfold each hand tightly around the opposite wrist, ensuring a practically unbreakable grip. Of course that didn't stop Jackie from twisting viciously around and straining against him. Almost graceful in his motions, Patrick moved his body in opposition to Jackie's, anticipating her moves with surprising accuracy and ease, counteracting each attempt to extricate herself.

Tucking his chin against her neck he spoke to her the way he would a wild animal he was attempting to tame. “Shhh, quiet. Easy, eeeasy. We're not gonna hurt you.” There was enough malicious delight in his voice to make Jackie sick.

Patrick's grip was encircling her so thoroughly she began to feel lightheaded as her airways were partially restricted. “Fuck. You,” she huffed, kicking back against his shin for emphasis.

“You should choose your threats more carefully,” he hissed. She could practically _hear_ the smile in his voice, a smile that only appeared as an indication of something sick and depraved.

Henry began to stand, shoving away the hand Victor offered to help him up. “You fucking **_bitch_ **.” Swaying uneasily he wiped a trickle of blood off his brow, eyes never leaving Jackie’s.

Face becoming a veil of indifference, as though none of this had a thing to do with her, Jackie met his gaze, unfaltering. “So what now, Henry? You gonna beat me up? Rape me? Kill me? What exactly are you trying to accomplish?”

“They all sound good to me,” Patrick chuckled, placing a few wet, sloppy kisses against her collar bone.

“Shut up, shut up, shut the FUCK _UP_!” Veins stood out across Henry's neck and forehead as he screamed, face contorted with the unbearable might of his emotions. Something was stirring in him, sweltering beneath the surface.

 _It's burning him_ , Jackie thought incoherently. Then another, familiar thought spread through her… but it was more than a thought, more than a feeling. It was powerful. It _was_ power. Her pupils expanded and her body stilled. Somehow infectious, her inanimate state spread to Henry, their eyes tightly locked. His own face dropped its expression of sheer fury. Victor looked between the two, bewildered. Even Patrick's smile faded as he surveyed his friend. Neither Henry nor Jackie spoke, their intense gazes continuing to search each other. With a frightening suddenness Jackie was violently torn from reality, as though she'd suddenly fallen into a dream.

Raymond was above her with a belt, hitting her again and again, screaming because she hadn't done all her chores… except, no, it wasn't Raymond. It was… her father?

... No… It was _Henry's_ father. And she was Henry? But she couldn't seem to make sense of any of it through the pain of the lashes whipping against her body. Feelings of unending loneliness, consuming rage and powerful hurt overwhelmed Henry… overwhelmed her. Her arms, which were really his, shot up to protect her face; to protect Henry's face. The whip dealt more pitiless, burning lashes to coerce even greater agony. Just when she felt she could take no more Jackie left the vision, the memory, whatever it was, and came back to herself.

Patrick had let go. Both he and Victor stood back a little ways, looking between Jackie and Henry uneasily. Suddenly it dawned that tears were streaming down her face as a hiccuping sob escaped her lips. Looking over to Henry she witnessed something wholly unexpected. He had collapsed to the ground, empty cries slipping silently from his open mouth, tears pooling before sliding down his chin to be caught by crisp autumn leaves. For a moment he seemed nothing more than a lost child, confused and upset. But the moment ended abruptly; turning his gaze from Jackie to his two friends his jaw clenched tightly, teeth grinding. Pain mixed tensely with anger. He opened his mouth as though to speak, tears still spilling down his face, then rose so quickly he nearly fell. Running back the way he'd come Henry sped through the woods as if being chased by the devil herself. Patrick and Victor wasted no time in following after.

  For nearly five minutes Jackie starred in the direction they'd gone, even after they'd disappeared, even after sounds of their footsteps faded into the cool damp of the woods. Moving again required some effort. Stiff and sore Jackie headed in the opposite direction the Bowers gang had gone. Something shifted across the forest floor in front of her, small and brown, its rounded shell protecting the wrinkly body beneath.

_… The Turtle…_

No, she didn't want to think about that.

_Power comes at a price_

Jackie's hands slammed against her ears, as though that could keep the foreign thoughts from being heard. _No no no no no no_ _NO!_

_Change comes at a price_

Breathing in huge lungfuls of air Jackie pushed onwards through the cluster of trees. A fast pace did nothing to push away her thoughts. Had those truly been Henry's memories? In context the question felt stupid. Even as the images had faded and her vision returned to her surroundings she’d known what it was she witnessed. And yet some part of her desperately searched for another explanation. Fine, so what she'd felt and seen were Henry's memories. If that was the case, what had happened to Henry? Did he simply relive that moment from his past?

Before she knew it Jackie exited the treeline, finding herself at the edge of a river. Soothed by the gentle trickle of water across smooth bedrock Jackie closed her eyes, calming herself in an attempt to better sort through her thoughts. With one final, exaggerated exhale her eyelids fluttered open. Moving at a more regular pace she followed along the river’s edge for a while, losing track of time and the space around, deep her contemplations.

A few hours later, though it didn't seem quite so long to her, Jackie was beginning to presume herself lost. Somehow that didn't seem to matter much. Her feet appeared to know where to go better than her brain so she followed them unquestioningly. Trepidation, at what she had no idea, slowly clustered around her heart, causing it to contract rather painfully. The woods dimmed while the sun retreated over the horizon, as though it too sensed an unspoken danger. Blustery winds whistled through the trees, whispering warnings, warnings that something was coming for her. In spite of fervently assuring herself it was unnecessary, Jackie found that she was jumping at each unexpected sound and turning to look behind her in constant agitation.

When she'd turned her head to scan over her shoulder for what must have been the fiftieth time, her feet caught on something; suddenly she was tumbling to the ground. Curses spewed from her mouth as her chin bounced off rocks. Several new cuts and scrapes spilled blood from the skin along her jawline, reopening the wound Henry's knife had left. Gingerly lifting herself onto her palms she winced at the pain in her elbows, both of which landed hard on the uneven ground. Dusting off her clothing, now damp with the soils’ saturation of river water, she noticed a large, yawning sewer tunnel to her right, vines hanging over the entrance like lifeless arms. Before she so much as thought of taking another step in the direction she'd been going, hushed murmurings floated across the grey water, rising to meet her ears. Somehow they sounded familiar. At first she told herself the sound couldn't be coming from the tunnel, but as her shoes sloshed through the muck their was no mistaking the source.

 _Must be a group of people in the tunnels. Maybe some kids exploring,_ she reasoned.

 _Fine, so there are some kids playing,_ She retorted. _doesn't mean you have to go find them._

This was a fair point. What good could it possibly do to continue tramping about in dirty water down a dingy, creepy hole?

_I'll go back out and head home._

 

Only she didn't turn and walk away. Instead she found herself going further and further in. Now the stink of contamination was overpowered by another smell. Was it... bacon? The aroma was alluring, drawing her further into the tunnel, overpowering the uncouth stench of sewer muck. Something else could be heard, more voices, only these crackled slightly. Before long she recognized what she was hearing. An episode of M*A*S*H must be playing on a television somewhere nearby. Jackie and her parents had often watched it together, on lazy Saturdays, after her parents were back from work and she from school, new episodes, reruns, marathons. Some vague part of her brain knew there couldn't possibly be a working TV down here but that didn't stop her from wanting to go and see where the sound was coming from, didn't stop her from hoping to catch a glimpse of her old favorite show.  
Turning a corner Jackie finally found the TV. Not just the Television but a whole living room greeted her as she entered the new section of the tunnels. It was... _her_ living room. Not the one from the ratty old apartment she'd lived in when she was four years old, but the one from the house her parents had moved to after her father's enormous luck in landing a prestigious job in a growing company. There was the TV, the lamp in the corner, the armchair with faded red upholstery, the light colored rug, the end tables with magazines and books stacked on them, and... the couch. It wasn't any of the furniture that commanded Jackie's attention but rather the figures sitting on the sofa. Their faces were hidden, apparently fixed on the television. With a single step closer Jackie felt her heart beating in her throat... were these people... could they possibly be...? Before she could get any closer to investigate the Hawkeye on the TV turned to stare directly into her eyes.

 

 

" _Hello... Jackie_."

 

 

With that the feed cut out and the screen went fuzzy, the crackle of static now the only sound to be heard. The figures on the couch twitched. The smell of bacon became intense, growing more and more pungent until with a shock of horror Jackie observed it taking on another sort of reek. Burning flesh.  
In perfect unison the figures stood from their seats. Seeing only their heads one could assume both were normal in every way but with their forms no longer hidden behind the couch Jackie could make out impossibly dark skin, crispy skin, burned skin. Skin so dark it looked like charcoal. But not all of it was the same, charred black. While Jackie continued to stare in blank dread some inexplicable illumination shed cracks of yellowish light over the stick like forms. She took note of many areas of separated skin, the fleshy mass beneath them deep colors of painful red. Immediately she knew she was looking at two people whose skin bore intense, mortal burns. All the time the figures grew closer, each movement jolting and slow. 

_Move._

Another step.

_Move, Jackie!_

Tears began to sting her eyes. What little space there was between them was quickly shrinking. She wanted so desperately to flee but her body was frozen.

  
Suddenly the scorched body with long hair sank to the floor, it's bony, black and red body poised like a dog preparing to pursue prey. It's eyes, shrunken and decayed, locked with hers. Then its jaw slowly lowered, revealing slightly sharpened teeth. Grey tendrils of smoke trailed out followed by a hollow, piercing shriek that poured out in a single, angered stream.

 

_Dammit, Jackie, RUN!_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_These charcoal tears I cry_

_burn me as they fall_

_My eyes are numb with ash_

_yet still I see the call_

_A beacon in the distance,_

_a light at the end of a shell_

_I will follow after,_

_to face the depths of hell_

_Once 7, now 8, now old, now new,_

_we all burn together_

_Brighter in the darkest night_

_lighter than a feather_

_But know this well, dear friend:_

_no matter what evils we amend_

_Memory your love_

_will not transcend_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the chase with the Bowers gang may feel like a bit of a let down but there will be others, trust me  
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	23. Alike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry struggles with the revelation he experienced in the Barrens. Jackie struggles to stay alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some pretty sensitive language in this chapter. I have it mostly asterisked but you can tell what the word is. If anyone takes any sort of issue with it being in the story I will immediately change it, so just let me know if it bothers you in any way!

****Henry had reached the road by the kissing bridge a few minutes before Victor and Patrick. As he leapt over the wooden fence, winded and head pounding, the tears began to slow their stream. Kneeling, he slammed a fist into the pavement, tearing parts of his skin away in painful chunks. Looking back he saw his friends making their way awkwardly up the hill they'd chased Jackie down. Wanting to avoid facing them, avoid facing any looks or questions they might have, he ran towards home, even though his lungs ached and his legs felt weak.

 

He was in his room now, relentlessly pacing, relieved his father wasn't home. The experience in the woods had simultaneously been so unlike anything he'd experienced and yet so familiar. Familiar because all his life he'd endured beatings and harsh blows. Unfamiliar because empathy was, up until that point in his life, almost wholly unfelt. Being forced into someone else's past, into their mind, feeling what they felt... It was almost too much to bear. Lunacy, as it so often did, even in a boy so young, threatened to overtake any and all rationale that remained in Henry's thick head. And yet he could think of nothing else. Those brief glimpses into Jackie's life thundered through his mind, refusing to give him any rest, the thoughts circling around his mind like the moon around the earth.

 

\---

 

A sort of thrill tore through Henry as he followed after Jackie, something more than his typical anger, something even greater than the thrill he felt when he was tormenting the younger kids at school. Perhaps it was because Jackie was female, perhaps because her body was so toned and luscious in all the right places. Perhaps it was because some more subconscious part of Henry was hoping, when they caught her, he could coax another kiss out of her. But all this was too nuanced for Henry to fully think about or realize. ' _Chase, catch, play with, torment_ ' was just about the extent of his ruminations as he caught brief glimpses of Jackie between the trees in front of him. Hearing his own voice ring out in jeering taunts through the woods gave him a renewed vigor; he sped onward, Patrick and Victor shouting their own warnings to Jackie. He was close to her now, he could feel it. Far closer than he actually realized; a voice called out his name, sharp and commanding. For once his brain worked faster than his limbs. He swiveled but found himself tripping over his own feet. In an instant he was on the ground, Jackie standing over him. Not that he would ever admit it, but the cool look of hatred in her eyes as she smiled and raised a branch above her head sent a shiver of fear down his spine.

 

"Congratulations, you found me."

 

Ears echoing with the dull, thudding ring of the branch across his forehead Henry felt blood trickle down his face. One hand raised, as if of its own accord, to touch the warm liquid rushing down towards his eyes. But she wasn't done with him yet. Her right foot landed a solid blow to his stomach. What little air remained in his lungs after the force of the kick was exhaled in agonized yells of pain. Then the anger burst in. Dots blurred his vision. He was vaguely aware the others had caught up by now. Patrick had Jackie restrained but whatever exchange they had was inaudible to him. His ears were filled with the rushing of his own, hot blood as it coursed through his body. Victor extended his hand, meaning to help Henry up but he shoved it away.

 

"You fucking _**bitch**_." He had hoped for other things from Jackie as the hunt had first begun but now all he wanted was to hear her screams of suffering while he beat her senseless. Once again wiping aside the blood rapidly exiting his body by way of his forehead he walked forwards, the resolve of at least maiming the girl before him keeping him from tipping over. But there was none of the fear he had hoped to see in her eyes. Not that it mattered, soon enough she'd realize the position she was in.

 

"So what now, Henry? You gonna beat me up? Rape me? Kill me? What exactly are you trying to accomplish?"

 

Patrick licked his lips, chuckling darkly. "They all sound good to me." Bending his head he began to kiss Jackie's collar bone. Even this didn't break the stoic look from her face.

 

"Shut up, shut up, shut the FUCK _UP_!" Henry meant the words for Patrick as much as he meant them for Jackie. Skin itching, Henry's stomach was turning uncomfortably, threatening to release all its contents via his mouth. His eyes were unbearably dry. Grinding his teeth he took a few more steps before stopping in his tracks. Jackie's body had relaxed and her eyes looked pale, their color now a cloudy sand color instead of their usual dark brown. Confusion spread across his face before the features softened into an expressionless haze. Mind emptying of thoughts, Henry found himself in a state devoid of any sensations, emotional or physical. A few seconds passed.

 

Suddenly he was ripped out of his body.

 

Eyes opening he found himself in a room so small it was practically a closet. Attempting to move his head to the side he realized he couldn't. He was stuck. Panic rose briefly and then something strange, alien to his own thoughts came into being. His feelings, his whole self, blurred as his consciousness mixed with the girl who's body he now found himself in as she woke.

 

Springing off the mattress she made her way to the door. It wouldn't open all the way; it never did during the Christmas season. The area just outside of her bedroom was the only place in the apartment that had any space for whatever pathetic, shrunken pine tree her father was able to afford. But no matter how little the tree was, no matter how quickly it died, no matter how few presents were underneath it, Jackie loved seeing the tree first thing in the morning, slimly decorated with any spare trinkets they could scrounge up to adorn it. Skipping over to her father, who was sitting at the table reading the paper as he always did, she climbed onto his lap as he pretended not to notice. Her little hands clapped against his cheeks and he feigned shock, coaxing a giggle from Jackie. Climbing onto the table she took a few careful steps towards the opposite end to watch her mother cooking breakfast. Before long three plates were laid out with eggs, though only Jackie's had bacon. Her mother tried to coax her into the high chair to eat but, as usual, she refused, choosing instead to eat sitting on the table. As Jackie's gaze moved from mother to father to the Christmas tree, a swell of joy and contentment filled up her young heart... filled Henry's heart. Never in his life had he felt anywhere near that happy. It was all so simple yet so indescribably beautiful.

 

If only it could have lasted.

 

Henry found himself thrust out of that beautiful dream and tossed into a nightmare of flaming chaos and blood-curdling screams. It wasn't the apartment he'd first seen but he knew it was where he... where Jackie and her parents lived. All her panic and dread flooded through Henry as if it were his own. Jackie climbed through the window only to slip down two stories to the hard brick. As Jackie lost consciousness Henry again shifted forward to another event in her life.

 

Raymond was beating him, touching him, cursing him, making him wish, even at such a tender age as eight, that death would come to end his miserable existence. Because that's how Jackie had felt.

 

Overwhelmed by the unbearable despair he was being forced to live through the girl he had been ready to beat bloody minutes ago, he begged to God or whatever powers that be to please let him go. He couldn't take anymore. It was all just too much. But no one seemed to be listening. His trek through Jackie's life continued, through foster homes and heartbreak, despair, anger and sorrow.

 

Without warning he was thrown back to the present, finding himself on hands and knees, shaking with the force of his silent sobs. Looking up he saw Patrick and Victor both seeming confused, a little scared even. Then there was Jackie. Tears lined her cheeks. Her eyes viewed him not with pity but understanding. Instinctively he knew she had seen parts of his life just as he had seen parts of hers. The expression of genuine compassion across her face was too much. Unable to take it any longer he stood, fleeing back the way he'd come.

 

\---

 

Part of Henry hated Jackie for what he had seen; he hated her regardless of any fault she may or may not have had in the vision he was drawn into. But only a small part was able to drudge up that hate, usually so commonplace, so habitual. The rest of him felt sorrow for Jackie. Sorrow for the loss of her parents, sorrow for the years of mental, physical and sexual abuse she'd endured at the hands of her uncle.

 

Henry felt both hatred and love for his abuser, his father, though love is perhaps too liberal term. He desired his father's approval and, even if he didn't know it himself, part of his despair at his father's beatings was due to his desperate need for the affection of his only remaining parent. And there were times his father showed affection. When Henry beat the n***er, when he poisoned the n***er's dog Mr. Chips, when he'd sabotaged the n***er boy's bike and Mike had fallen off, breaking an arm and spilling the precious meats his bicycle contained. When his father was proud of him Henry was happy. But those moments were rare and as the years had passed they occurred less and less. His father either grunted acknowledgement of his presence, questioned him about what he was doing and who he was doing it with, asked to make sure all his chores were done, or he was beating him. Consequently, Henry's anger and his disdain for the world around him, which was, in reality, disdain for himself he projected onto others, grew exponentially. He fought for control over anything he could, for a way to say 'I'm here! I can do as I please, let me be.' Continuing on this way for years he'd fallen into a mire of abusing and being abused. It almost no longer required any thought, it was practically a reaction.

 

Now all of that was thrown into the pitiless gears of change, grinding and shifting his mind and emotions in ways that made his chest ache.

 

Grabbing at his hair and yanking hard Henry attempted to dull the devastating power of the flooding memories, memories not his own which were now part of him. Eventually the anxiety and stress tired him enough to force him into sleep, both troubled and relieving.

 

\---

 

Putrid water sprayed up after each tumultuous footstep as Jackie raced through the sewer tunnels set underneath the Barrens. Screeches reverberated from the long haired thing chasing her, wailing, hideous strains of pain and fury.   
_It was... Those things were..._  
But Jackie couldn't bear to let herself think that thought trough to conclusion. They weren't. They couldn't be. Whatever those things were they couldn't possibly be her... her... 

 

" _Jackiiiiieeeee!"_ Deep and hoarse a shout somehow echoed above the screams of the long-haired monster. She knew it was the other figure, the burned man. With two monsters chasing her Jackie began to fear she would die here, her body raked to bits under the teeth and nails of those horrid, cindered beings. 

 

_You'll be killed down here._ _Killed by your parent_ s, a part of her brain whispered. At this thought a choking sob escaped her and a fresh wave of tears clouded her vision. 

 

_Have to get out, have to get out_

 

Scraping noises behind alerted Jackie that the thing which had gotten down on all fours in pursuit was closing in, its nails rasping across concrete. Convulsions shook her body, threatening to liquefy her legs and shut down her lungs. Fear roared and screamed in her heart, overtaking every other sense.

 

_Please,_ she begged. _Please don't let them catch me_.

 

For a while Jackie deterred the crazy desire to look back, to see how close they were on her heels, but eventually her insane, morbid curiosity won out. Without slowing her pace she turned her head slightly, catching a glance over her shoulder. All she could make out were two black and blurry forms rushing down the tunnel behind, one on the ground like an animal, the other upright and stumbling from side to side as if drunk. But her foot caught on something. Before she even realized it Jackie was falling into cool, stinking grey water. Scrambling wildly she half-rose before slipping across the tunnel's slimy underbelly and falling prone once again. She knew she must get up and run, or at least part of her did. Instead of hurrying to her feet she turned onto her back, eyes trained on the hideous masses of bruned flesh which followed her. They were closing in. 

 

Smoke and burning flecks of... something, she wasn't sure what, sprayed forth from their hideous mouths as they came nearer, confident in their kill. The one on two feet twisted its face in anguish. _"Why... did you leeeaave uuUUUUUSSSSS,"_ It spat, voice slowly rising in volume. Teeth clacking against each other the one on all fours shrieked in triumph, reaching out one long bony hand towards the her. Brisk winds stirred Jackie's hair from someplace just beyond where she sat in the water. She must be close to the entrance. If only she could...

 

" _This is the end for you_ , _the end you deserve,"_ White froth dripped from the corners of the standing thing's mouth, reminding her of something, something she'd read many times over.

 

"General Woundwort," she said, barely able to muster up a whisper. The long-haired thing snapped its hand back from her. Was it her imagination or did both look suddenly less sure of themsleves? Unsure of what else to do she continued. Another line sprang to her mind, wild and lunatic, yet somehow it felt right to speak it. "We do not take moonlight for granted. It is like snow, or like dew on a July morning. It does not reveal but changes what it covers." She had spoken louder this time, her voice powerful enough to echo slightly off the walls. This time there was no mistaking the monsters' slowing pace. Both hissed, the sound like crackling fire. The fear was still piecing her heart, still almost strong enough to choke her, but something else was there too: a hope of escape. Slowly Jackie rose to her feet. "To come to the end of a time of anxiety and fear!" She took a step back. "To feel the cloud that hung over us lift and disperse - that cloud that dulled the heart and made happiness no more than a memory!" Another step backwards towards the fresh air she felt tickling the hairs at the base of her neck. "This at least is one joy that must have been known by almost every living creature." Jackie was almost outside now and neither creature had moved. Nearly safe outside in the open, she began to feel some measure of relief, but the eyes of the things in the tunnel, eyes which now held a dark red glow, held all the weight of pure, all-encompassing hatred. Those eyes shook Jackie to her core. _Ancient eyes,_ her mind whispered. The next thing that sprung to her mind was not from Watership Down, but was instead a declaration, and she knew she must say it.   
"You," she began, pointing a finger accusingly at the evil, black things lurking in the pipes. "you are _not_ my PARENTS!" It was then that she turned and fled, her adrenaline spurring her on up the overgrown depths of the Barrens, up the hills, on through the waning sunlight still warming the man made roads and sidewalks of Pasture Road. This time she did not look back. She wasn't even tempted to. By the time her feet had carried her to Harris Avenue she was beginning to slow. Entering Tabitha's house she switched on the television and plopped down on the sofa. The horrifying events of what had happened not even twenty minutes ago faded out of her mind like dirty water draining down through the bathroom pipes.

 


	24. The Bargain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick finally decides to hold a particular book over Jackie's head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a side note that, for this story, Patrick doesn't believe he's the only real person. I don't feel anywhere near ready to handle that as a writer. In my mind, for the sake of Charcoal Tears, he believes that he's the only person in the world who truly matters, as if he was a sort of God. He did still kill his brother because he was afraid Avery would be another God-like person and he didn't want that. Okay, that's all.

Patrick had been looking forward to whatever was going to happen when they caught Jackie in the Barrens. Patrick had had ideas of all the horrible things he could do to and with her. And they  _ had _ caught her. He'd held her close against him, felt her form struggle and writh in the most gratifying way. But then something had happened, something inexplicable. Something that shook his mind and left him feeling… odd. He didn't like that. Jackie seemed to have an unnatural ability to bend situations in her favor, yes, but yesterday was off the charts. 

Henry had seemed far away in the following days, always lost in thought. Both Belch and Victor seemed worried about the state Henry was in, concerned about his lack of care or input. Normally he was the one giving orders, telling the rest of them what they were going to be doing that day, who they were going to harass, which teachers they'd torment, what they'd vandalize, how they'd score cigarettes. Recently he kept quiet. And that wasn't even the strangest part. Anger, usually so ready to flare up, was replaced by apathy. A few times Patrick tried to goad him into a fit, get him to yell, hit him, anything. All efforts to that end proved fruitless. 

Multiple times Patrick asked Henry what they were going to do about Jackie and how they were going to get her back. He even made some suggestions, but each time he said her name Henry visibly flinched, looking uncomfortable. After what must have been the hundredth attempt to convince Henry they should go after Jackie again, Patrick turned to Belch and Victor. When neither of them showed any particular interest in harassing her, he decided it was finally time to play his trump card. 

Watership Down still sat under his bed, a thin layer of dust now covering it. Many times he imagined how best to strike up a deal with Jackie, envisioning her reaction, her anger, wondering how far she would be willing to go to get it back. After a great deal of thought and planning Patrick felt himself finally ready, notwithstanding Jackie's unpredictability. But somehow that just made it better. Whatever the outcome he was determined to get something out of her, one way or another. 

 

\---

 

Letting the events that transpired between herself and the Santa Claus monster down in the sewer tunnels fall to the back of her mind had been easy. Uncanny, perhaps, and unusual for someone who was on the cusp of transitioning from childhood to adulthood. Yet still Jackie effectively forgot the terror and the creature. In her conscious mind, at least. The other days of the week passed easily enough. She rarely even caught sight of any of the members of the Bowers gang, and if she did they ignored her. That in itself was enough to bring relief, but in addition Logan had recently gotten into the habit of picking Jackie, Moira and Jenn up after school. 

_ Because _ , he claimed  _ the Bowers gang might catch up with you again one of these days _ . 

Jackie didn't believe it to be necessary in the least but she refrained from saying so. She liked Logan, a great deal more than she cared to admit, and seeing him every day after school was, dare she think it, nice. She'd even begun practicing with Logan’s band, Republic of Scum. They were getting better and better. Jackie would almost have been able to enjoy it completely, to let herself accept happiness free of suspicion. She would have, except for the fact that Watership Down still hadn't turned up. Each and every night since its mysterious disappearance Jackie had scoured the house, the garage, even the yard. Hell, she'd ventured onto the roof to look for it. Nothing. Not a trace of its pages. A sort of idea had started to form, a curious little inkling as to where her book had gone, or rather who had taken it. But ultimately she shoved this thought away. If she was right and Patrick had stolen it that probably meant it was torn apart or burned to a crisp by now, and she didn't even want to entertain that notion. The only thing that kept her from having a mental breakdown about the situation was her own constant self assurances that it would turn up eventually. In the meantime Logan kept her mind fairly busy. Her mind, her lips, her hands, her heart. He was beginning to consume her, and for the first time since her parents had died, Jackie began to truly let someone else in. Already there had been a lot of making out and groping but that was all purely physical. More significant than that they'd had many long talks into the night. Their discussions had mostly focused on Logan’s life, how his father had left, how his mother had become practically catatonic afterwards, forcing him to temporarily drop out of school to come home to care for his family. They'd talked of how he worried about Jenn and his young brother, still in elementary school. Jackie even told him a little about her life through the different foster homes. She knew he wanted to know about her parents but he didn't press the matter. There was an easy sort of comfort between them, as if she'd known him all her life.

 

Friday rolled around and Jackie was more than ready for the weekend. Due in large part to her recent upturn in mood, she'd been actually putting in an effort at school. Math problems, English papers, science projects, all were completed with refined ease. Minimal effort was enough to pull at least a C in all subjects. As the last bell rang she caught herself almost skipping. Irritated, Jackie dug her nails into her palm, attempting to subdue the ridiculous, rising giddy. Jenn and Moira were, as they had been for the last week, waiting at her locker. Tossing her science book inside Jackie followed them towards the entrance. As they turned a corner Jackie noticed Patrick, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Immediately his eyes snapped to her, as though he had been waiting for her to turn up. Without slowing she turned away, ignoring the sinister look he wore. The three girls had just barely walked past him when he called out. 

“May you always be able to lose yourself in the written word. With all the love in the universe.” His voice had barely spoken loud enough to cut through the din of voices in the hallway but Jackie heard it just the same. Those words shot a jolt of electricity across her nervous system, freezing her in her tracks. Several people nearly collided into her backside, barely able to side step away in time. Moira and Jenn slowed as they took note of Jackie’s stillness. 

Eyes narrowed and never leaving Patrick's smug, grinning face, Jackie told the other two to go on without her. “Tell Logan I'll meet up with him later.”

Looking nervously between Jackie and Patrick, Moira and Jenn warily obeyed. Pushing off the wall Patrick sidled up to her. “Walk with me.”

Gritting her teeth Jackie obeyed. “What do you want.” It was really more of a statement than a question. At first she refused to look at him as they continued down the hall but when he remained silent she turned her gaze up to meet his eyes. There was such a self-satisfied expression of triumph she found herself barely reigning in the urge to hit him. 

“What do _I_ want? It's not about what I want Jackie, it's all about what _you_ want.” Running his tongue over his teeth he lowered his voice, continuing to stare down at her with a sick glee. “And what you’re willing to do to get it.”

Patrick was slowly leading her away from the stream of students heading to the exit. Away from the classrooms and their teachers. She could hear the thrum of teenagers making their way outside but could no longer see them. She didn't like that. “And what, exactly, do you think I want?” All trepidation she felt was shoved down, leaving only a look of superior derision as she addressed the tall, dark-haired boy. 

He suddenly stopped mid step. “Don't play stupid. It doesn't suit you.” His features were grimmer now, more matter-of-fact. 

Jackie mimicked his seriousness. “Fine. You have my book and I want it back. What are we going to do about that?”

Patrick just seemed simply unable to keep the smile from spreading over his thin lips. “I have a few ideas.” Before Jackie had time to realize his intentions Patrick had grabbed her by her upper arms, shoving her against the nearby lockers. 

She was somewhat taken aback but her composure was easily regained. “Shoving me up against a wall, how original.” Muscles relaxed, she acted as though the only reason this had happened was because she had allowed it, as if she were the one in control of her predicament and not Patrick. 

Ignoring her taunt he pressed himself against her, tilting his head to the side. “What the hell happened with you and Henry down in the Barrens?”

Surprised by the question Jackie's brows furrowed, worry crossing her face before disintegrating under the mask. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Grabbing her chin roughly Patrick leaned down so close their noses almost touched. “I thought I told you not to play stupid.”

“I. Don't. Know. What. You're. Talking. About.”

Patrick considered her a moment, ultimately deciding not to pursue the question any further. After all, there were other, more interesting things to discuss. “Fine. You don't know. Whatever.” Releasing her chin Patrick moved his hand to Jackie's hair, running a long, silky strand through his fingers as his other hand slid down to rest on her hip. “Let's talk about what you're going to do to get that book back.” 

Crossing her arms definitely Jackie met his gaze with unrestrained hostility but remained silent. Patrick seemed to enjoy that. 

“I want you to owe me a favor. Simple as that.”

“So I have to wait until you decide to cash in to get my book back?!” she half shouted, indignant at the implication. 

Snorting derisively he shoved Jackie aside, rapidly spinning a combination to what was apparently his locker. She didn't get a chance to look inside; barely 2 seconds after opening it he slammed it shut again, only now he was holding her book. Heart beating painfully fast she could hardly contain her own excitement at seeing its worn cover once more. Positioning himself uncomfortably close for a second time he grinned, almost happily. “I'll give it to you now, before I cash in on the favor.” Jackie went to reach for it but Patrick held it back. “But, you owe me for something else. A few things, actually. Because of you I got a bad grade on what was supposed to be  _ our  _ project. You said I didn't help at all.”

“You didn't.”

“That wasn't my fault.”

“If I had offered to let you help you still wouldn't have.”

“Well, now we'll never know. And I think I deserve something for taking a zero. Now, I have,” Whatever he had been about to say was cut off as Jackie grabbed his collar, pulling his face down to hers, kissing him hard. At first his shock left him stiff and rigid, but that only lasted a few seconds. Jackie heard her book thud to the ground. His hands quickly grabbed at her hips, shoving her back as he parted her lips with his tongue. One hand slid down from her hip, gripping her butt firmly as a short, animalistic grunt escaped his mouth. The other reached up behind her neck, forcing her lips to remain against his. He pressed against her further; his cock rubbed against her jeans, slowly stiffening. Jackie was surprised as he softened the kiss, moving his tongue methodically around hers; even more surprised to realize he knew exactly what he was doing. Unable to stop it, a sound broke from her mouth, half groan, half sigh. Unexpectedly the hand around her ass loosened. Patrick repositioned it in between them, cupping her sex through her jeans, moving his hand slowly up and down. Before long he trailed it up to the rim of her pants, his fingers beginning to crawl under her panties. 

That was the final straw. Jackie pushed Patrick away and he let her, though the look on his face spoke of a satisfied glee. Snapping down Jackie grabbed her book, turning quickly away to head down the hall, but not quickly enough to avoid the hard slap Patrick planted across her rear-end. She didn't look back but the cold chuckle that emanated from his lips followed her down the hall, ringing in her head all the long walk home. 


	25. Unbeliever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackie plays her first show with Logan and his band. Belch confronts her about what happened in the Barrens between her and Henry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a boring chapter to be honest. More interesting stuff in later chapters.

Describing her encounter with Patrick as unnerving would be an understatement. Jackie's skin prickled with goose flesh at the memory of his hands running over her while his tongue invaded her mouth. Perhaps the most unnerving aspect had been how he seemed to know exactly what to do to get her worked up. Perhaps what had made it so unnerving was how much she'd enjoyed it. Forcing these thoughts out of her head was proving difficult. But as Logan signaled his arrival by laying on the horn a few times he quickly replaced all thoughts of Patrick. By the time they'd loaded her amplifier and guitar into his trunk and she seated herself in the passenger’s side Patrick wasn't even an afterthought anymore. Logan slid his seat belt on, smiling at her while saying something she didn't quite catch because she was so caught up in his eyes. 

“Hmm?” She inquired absently. 

“I said,” Logan began. “are you nervous about playing tonight?”

Jackie's only response to this was an exaggerated, snide laugh. 

 

It was dark and the party was already well underway when they arrived. A few sporadic cheers went up from high schoolers drunkenly swaying across the living room and they began bringing the equipment in. Craig, the group's singer, disappeared just as Jackie was slinging her guitar across her torso. When he came back four beers were tucked under his arms. They were passed around until everyone had one. 

“It's tradition,” Logan explained. “We each chug a beer before we play.” 

Shrugging Jackie popped the tab. Just as the last drops hit her throat she crushed the can against her head before chucking it across the room, eliciting an uproar from the excited crowd, stuffed like sardines from wall to wall. Logan started the set, the baseline of his drums vibrating up through the floor into Jackie as her fingers slowly plucked the strings before becoming more hurried and intense. Millions of times she'd imagined performing for a larger crowd, imagined the way she'd jump to the beat of the music or shred her fingers across the guitar as her head whipped up and down. Of course the crowds in her imagination were always far larger and the stage much bigger just that didn't seem to matter. All Jackie knew was that they sounded good. The whole house seemed to shake as everyone in the living room jumped up and down banging harshly into one another. Heart thrumming against her rib cage Jackie felt exhilarated with a sort of power. Her playing remained flawless, never missing a single note no matter how she moved or thrashed in time with the music. As the first song finished Jackie cast a look back to Logan. Smiling at her was enough to twist her stomach in knots, so much so she wondered if she would throw up. But maybe that was just the beer she'd chugged. 

 

Less than a half hour later the last song of their set was over. Carefully stepping around his drum set Logan layed a hand on Jackie's shoulder. “That was fucking amazing!” he shouted over the din. 

“Thanks! Keys?”

“What?”

“Give me your keys so I can put my guitar away!”

Fishing them out of his pocket he handed them over without further questions.  _ Hurry back,  _ he mouthed. 

Shoving people aside she was careful to keep her instrument out of harm's way. Moonlight greeted her as she stepped down the porch stairs, trying to remember where Logan had parked in the giant mess of cars on the lawn. Finally finding it nestled between a rusty truck and a Volvo Jackie struggled to open the door enough to get her instrument through. Eventually she managed to tuck it across the seat. But before there was even time to turn around a voice called out to her. 

“Nice set. I could hear it all the way out here.” The compliment seemed somewhat insincere between the speaker’s hostility. 

Facing the person who'd spoken Jackie leaned against Logan’s car, arms crossed over her chest. “Belch. Haven't seen you in a while.”

Deeply inhaling from his cigarette Belch viewed her with unconcealed dislike. “Been busy with work.” 

Jackie couldn't help but feel a momentary spark of trepidation as he lumbered towards her. He was large. Getting into a fight with him wouldn't be like Victor, Patrick, or even Henry. Very likely he could knock her out with a couple of well placed punches. 

“What did you do to Henry?”

Rolling her eyes Jackie moved to go inside but was caught in Belch’s firm grip. Squeezing her arm harshly for emphasis he put the question to her once again. “What happened with Henry down in the Barrens? Victor seems confused by whatever it was and Patrick just brushes it off. But Henry hasn't been the same since. He barely talks, barely does anything he used to.”

“You mean he barely harasses defenseless little kids anymore?!” Jackie spat, her tone accusatory and biting. “Did you ever think to ask Henry what he was going to do to  _ me _ ? Because whatever it was it wouldn't have been pleasant.” 

“He doesn't do nothing to anyone they don't deserve.”

Jackie opened her mouth to furiously protest this point but closed it again after recognizing that Belch truly believed this. “I don't know what happened. One minute he wanted to kill me, the next he let me go. Patrick and Victor were freaked out so they let me go too. Is that enough? Am I free now?” Sarcastic and bitter she lamely attempted to wretch her arm away. 

“Bullshit!” Reggie’s face grew red, a few veins in his neck nearly popping out of his skin. He meant to get an answer out of her one way or another, that much was clear, yet still she felt she'd rather be beaten than tell him the truth. 

“Nothing happened!” Voice uneven, Jackie's mind went back to Henry's memory, burned into her brain ever since that day. She didn't want to think about that, not now. Not ever again, if she could help it. Yanking Jackie toward him Belch grabbed her other arm, shoving her against Logan’s car so hard her head smacked against its chilled metal. “Nothing happ… ” but her voice choked on the words and she found she couldn't quite go on. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” she managed to croak as tears gathered under her lids. Crying in front of others was her own, cardinal sin and she loathed it. But still the tears came. 

“Try me,” he huffed. 

“You wouldn't believe me,” she insisted. Again her voice was no more than a whisper. The look in his eyes told her there was no use putting it off any more. “I saw,” Grinding her teeth Jackie pushed back the tears, her tone now raw and harsh. “I saw one of Henry’s memories. Of his father beating him with a belt. Kicking him, yelling at him. But I didn't just see it. I felt everything that Henry had felt. It was… I was… I was  _ him _ . For a few minutes I lived through his memory.” Some amount of irritation flitted across Belch’s face but she saw a small measure of belief there as well. “I don't know  _ what _ Henry saw but he's left me alone since. There, are you happy now? Does that answer make you feel better?!” She glared, daring him to disagree. Seeming slightly at a loss he released her with a huff, muttering  _ Fucking lying bitch  _ under his breath. 

“ _ FUCK YOU _ , Belch.” Jackie hated the way her voice broke over the words, now helpless to stop the stream of tears down her face. She refused to look back at him, focusing on getting inside. 

Wiping her eyes Jackie heaved in a few deep breaths before going in the house again. Logan greeted her almost as soon as she entered, two drinks in hand. “Hey, I was just coming to look for you. What took so long?” He seemed to take note of Jackie’s reddened eyes but before he could say anything she grabbed one of the plastic cups and downed its contents. For a moment Logan considered her, then leaned in, yelling to be heard over the noise. “You okay?”

“Are we gonna get drunk or what?”

Jackie thought he might pursue the point but shrugging he seemed to give up. “Alright, if that's what you want.”


	26. Cashing In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackie finds herself becoming happier and happier. Will her good fortune last this time? Or will this seemingly happily ever after come crumbling down on top of her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so late, I know, I'm sorry. I've been feeling pretty meh lately so finding inspiration and motivation to write hasn't been easy. I'm really hoping I can kick my butt into gear to get another chapter to you by this Saturday but we'll see. And I just need to say a huge thank you to everyone who has been reading, commenting, leaving likes, whatever. You guys inspire me! Really actually. Thanks for sticking around.

Sunlight streamed in gently from the window, causing Jackie to pry her heavy lids open, eyes dry and burning. But the window she found herself looking through wasn't the one in her room. That thought was brief in passing; soon she remembered where she was and the thudding, throbbing pain in her head drowned out everything else. Pushing herself off the bed got her stomach turning in a sickening manner. Hand clapped over her mouth she rushed to find a bathroom. Luckily she remembered where the upstairs toilet was. Just in time she collapsed over it, emptying the sparse contents of her stomach. For a few minutes her body convulsed with her own gagging attempts to regurgitate what wasn't there. Two minutes later she managed to pull herself to the sink, drinking greedily from the faucet until she had enough water to properly throw up again. Following her second vomit Jackie wiped her mouth before cupping her hands under the running water, sipping slower this time. 

Picking her way across the other bodies strewn in various places around the house Jackie made her way to the kitchen, downing some pickle juice from the refrigerator as well as a few hard boiled eggs. For a moment she thought she was going to throw up yet again, but this time it stayed down. After a little more water she made her way back to the room she'd awoken in. Several others were lying fast asleep across the floor, including Logan. Luckily all were still asleep and no one had taken the bed. Shuffling under the covers Jackie drifted quickly to sleep. 

 

A harsh whisper pulled her from unconsciousness. “Jackie, wake up. Get up Jackie!” Logan shook her gently, looking nervous. It was then that she heard the voices yelling downstairs. “Bailey’s parents came home early and called the police. We're sneaking out of here.”

Jackie stood, pulling her shoes on haphazardly. Several people were already climbing out the window and onto the roof. Logan and Jackie were the last ones out. Logan was just preparing to jump down when Jackie held him back. “Wait a minute,” she breathed, watching the others run across the lawn. Then, as she'd expected, several officers came running out from the house, calling after them. Taking Jackie’s hand Logan led her around to the side of the house facing the woods. “What about your car?”

Logan shook his head. “Craig wanted to leave early so I let him take it.”

They leapt down at the same time, taking off running the second their feet hit the ground. Before any officers had so much as caught a glance of them the woods swallowed them whole, hiding the pair completely from the world outside the treeline. 

“Party circuit is probably going to be dry for a while now,” Logan sighed as he held a branch aside for Jackie. 

“Yeah, probably. What am I possibly going to do to entertain myself these next few weekends?” She cast a glance at him over her shoulder, smiling coyly, one eyebrow raised suggestively. 

Grabbing her wrist he gently pulled her back to him as his feet stilled, wrapping an arm around her waist. “I could think of a few things.” They stood in silence for a few seconds, unmoving. Then his palms slid carefully up her sides, sending a slight shiver down her spine. His hands reached her face, grasping it urgently as he tilted his head to the side, pressing his lips firmly against hers. Jackie released a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding. He teased and taunted her with his mouth, slowly running his tongue across her lip, sucking on it before pulling back, that same crooked grin on his face. Somewhat uncharacteristically a whine of annoyance rumbled in Jackie's throat. Laughing Logan cupped his hands under Jackie's thighs, lifting her as she tightened her legs around his torso to steady herself. Sliding his tongue across the inside of her lip he moved forward until he had Jackie's back up against a tree. Hands running through Logan’s hair Jackie pulled it slightly as a low moan emanated from Logan’s mouth. Reaching one hand down Jackie cupped his length through his jeans, running her hand up and down his stiffening cock. Just as she was beginning to undo his belt he lowered her, somewhat haphazardly in his distracted state. 

“Woah, let's uh,” he paused, collecting himself. “Let's put the brakes on a little.”

Crossing her arms Jackie viewed him with supercilious smile. “Why, you saving yourself for marriage?”

Laughing gruffly he wiped a hand down his face. “No. No it's a bit late for that. I just… You're not 18 yet. I don't feel right about it.”

“Are you serious? I'll be 18 in a couple of weeks.”

“Great, so we’ll wait until then.” 

Opening her mouth to argue further she was silenced by the look in his eyes. The sincere look of caring and tenderness. “Fine,” she conceded. They began walking again, hand in hand, the silence neither awkward nor unpleasant. “I know what I want from  _ you  _ for my birthday.”

Logan’s laughter rang out through the forest as Jackie joined him, the sound of their mirth echoing pleasantly back to them in the calm light of the Saturday morning. 

 

Jackie spent most of the day at Logan’s, watching movies, talking, making out. It was all so… normal. So comfortable and easy. As she watched his car drive away from her living room window the smile she'd had plastered to her lips practically all day faded. Jackie didn't trust how well things were going. Somehow the elation and bliss she felt with him, with Logan, was turning into anxiety and irritation. He had been in her life only a few weeks and already she could hardly think about anything else. She found herself craving him, seeking his approval, even if it was in subtle ways. She'd helped him do the dishes earlier, for crying out loud. “Fuck,” she mumbled, making her way to the kitchen. Tabitha was cooking up a storm, as usual. 

“Oh, Jackie, good. I forgot to tell you we're having guests over tonight for dinner. I'd like it if you’d join us.”

“Hmm, well that depends on how good the food is,” Jackie stated, peeking over her aunt's shoulder into a giant pot of soup. 

“I'm making Borscht and garlic bread.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“Well, it's bread you cook garlic and butter into, dear.”

Jackie couldn't help but smirk at her aunt's condescending teasing. “I meant what the fuck is borscht you old bat,” she returned, a snarky smile accompanying the rude words. 

“It’s a beet soup with potatoes, cabbage, carrots and beef. Normally I make it with pork sausage but our guests are kosher. And don't curse in my house.”

“Fine. Sounds pretty good. I'll be down for dinner.”

“Wait!”

Jackie paused in the door, annoyed. “What?”

“Help me make it. It's a recipe that's been in the family a long time and I want you to learn how to make it.”

Taken aback Jackie nodded agreement, unable to come up with any biting witticisms. Tabitha showed her the proper way to cut so the vegetables would cook evenly, how you boiled the potatoes first, all the spices you needed to add, how to rub them into the meat so it would be seasoned properly. By the time they finished the whole house smelled of a pleasant and simple aroma, comforting. Familiar. More and more Jackie found herself grinning, conversing with Tabitha easily, as if cooking together like this were a regular occurrence. It felt uncomplicated. Natural. Normal. Again Jackie was struck with an odd sense of discomfort at a happy situation. Jackie didn't get to have a family. She didn't get to have friends. She didn't get a nice boyfriend. Yet here she was, closing in on all three. So much of her life had been filled with disappointment she had long ago guarded herself against wishing for things she wanted. Shoving hopes and dreams away was necessary and became second nature. Yet now… now all that was slipping away from her. Hope was taking root in her heart, joy and contentment following after, their roots clutching her in their tantalizing grip. 

Tabitha’s hand, gently layed on Jackie's shoulder, abruptly startled her out of these revories. Jumping slightly she cast a blank look at her aunt, the knife in her hand half way through the bread she was slicing. “I said, why don't you go wash up and change into some nice clothes.”

“I don't have nice clothes.”

“I laid some out for you.” 

Eyes rolling a snort escaped Jackie. If her great aunt really thought she was going to dress up for dinner she would find herself sadly mistaken. Ruffling through her clothing Jackie searched for the jeans she'd been wearing the day she'd been chased through the Barrens by the Bowers gang. After the comment her aunt had made Jackie felt like going out of her way to dress down, dirt, stains and all. 

“Wear something nice to dinner,” she muttered. “Yeah right.” Slipping out of her fresher jeans she quickly donned the mucked up, torn and somewhat stinking pair of pants. Jackie cast a glance to the clothing laid out by Tabitha, curious as to what she expected her to dress in. A black dress was laid across her unmade bed, complimentary jewelry and a pair of shoes beside it. Chuckling to herself she walked over to it, examining the various components while she buttoned her pants. Just as she was taking her shirt off something caught her eye; a name sewn into the collar of the dress. 

Voice soft, almost inaudible, Jackie spoke the name. “Grace Tormel.” Grace Tormel had been her mother's maiden name. With a delicate touch she ran her fingers along the fabric, suddenly feeling very peculiar. Her mother had worn this, probably when she was around the same age Jackie was now. All of a sudden she made her way to the bathroom, stripping before stepping into the shower. After a quick scrub down she re-entered her room, dropping the towel. Several minutes passed before she even dared to lift the dress, unzipping it to pull it up her body with great care. It fit like it was made just for her. The dress itself was plain, the same color all over with a simple cut and belt to go around the waist, it's style indicative of the 60’s. Donning the jewelry and slipping into the shoes Jackie stepped in front of the mirror hanging on the closet door, admiring herself. Times she had worn a dress could be counted on one hand. Most of those instances had been when she was younger, before the cataclysmic house fire. Smoothing down the material Jackie turned to the side slightly, a strange ghost of a smile flitting across her features. Absorbed as she was in admiring herself Jackie failed to hear the slight click of her balcony door sliding open, failed to hear the wood of her floor creak. Eyes fixed on her reflection she was unaware of the intruder. 

“That's a good look for you, sugar tits.”

Immediately turning to face him Jackie glowered at Patrick, brows furrowed, a silent snarl across her face like an animal who's been cornered. 

“I'm here about that favor.”


	27. Better... Or Worse?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The weight of your choices isn't always immediate.

“I'm here about that favor.”

Jackie's chest sunk at the words. When she'd agreed to owe him she'd figured she could turn down whatever sick, depraved thing he'd ask for and deal with the consequences later. Since he'd returned the stolen Watership Down Jackie was careful to lock all the house’s doors and windows at night or when she went out. She even went so far as to hide her books and any other material possessions she cared about. Her guitar and amplifier were safely stowed at Logan’s, the novels were tucked away in various hiding spots all over the house. But here was Patrick, standing right in the middle of her room. Turning him down here would be more difficult.

“My aunt is downstairs.” Jackie warned cooly, sounding much more composed than she felt.

“Well I'm only here to talk to you.”

“Unfortunately now’s not,” but her words were cut off by the doorbell ringing, followed by her aunt yelling up the stairs.

“Jackie! Come down. Our guests are here.”

Irritated, she glanced between Patrick and the door.

A devilish smirk lit up his face. “Go down. Greet your company. I can wait.”

Preparing to protest Jackie cut herself off as she saw the look in his eyes, the warning barely veiled beneath a calm look of superiority. Jabbing her finger into his chest she hissed through her teeth. “Don't touch anything. I'll be up after dinner but please feel free to excuse yourself from the house before then.”

Not giving him a chance to reply Jackie whirled around, stomping out of her room before slamming the door as hard as she could. Tabitha was just opening the door and Jackie was surprised to see the boy who'd helped her clean out the garage.

“Hello Elizabeth, Rabbi. Stanley, it's good to see you, please come in.” Tabitha smiled sweetly greetings were exchanged.

“And who is this lovely lady?” The woman her aunt had addressed as Elizabeth hung her coat on the rack with careful grace before stepping closer to examine the ‘lovely lady’.

“This is my grand-niece, Jackie. She's the daughter of my sister's son.”

“Yes, of course I remember,” Elizabeth breathed, sounding far away. “Oh she looks just like Gracie in that dress. Such a tragedy what happened to them.” Abruptly the woman clapped a hand over her mouth, but Jackie noticed how almost predetermined the action looked. “How awful of me to bring it up. I'm so terribly sorry. Richard, dear, change the subject quickly before I go on any longer.”

As Tabitha ushered everyone into the living room, instead of the dining room, as Jackie had expected, the Rabbi spoke up. “My Stanley was telling us at dinner some nights ago that after he and his friends helped you clear out the garage you played a song on the guitar for them. He said you were pretty good. Although I have to admit I've never cared much for rock and roll. Far too loud and unrefined for my taste.”

Unsure how to respond Jackie shrugged her shoulders lightly, feeling very unlike herself as she sat primly on the edge of the sofa, hands folded neatly in her lap. “I've loved rock and roll ever since I was young and a friend of mine had a guitar so I taught myself how to play.”

Tea and some crackers sat out on the coffee table and Elizabeth gingerly poured herself a cup as she addressed Jackie. “That's impressive, to teach yourself. I've never been much attracted to that type of music either but I think every young lady ought to learn to play an instrument.”

Much to Jackie's relief the conversation soon carried on without her, the adults becoming absorbed in their own, boring chit chat. Stanley, sitting on the couch beside her, scooted closer, leaning over slightly to make sure she was the only one who heard him.

“My friends and I have been talking, about Henry and his friends… well, we head about them chasing you into the Barrens.”

Jackie cast him a sideways glance but remained still otherwise. Undaunted he continued. “Henry hasn't been the same since then. He barely talks, he doesn't even bully us so much anymore. We all want to know…” but the rest of his sentence was cut off.

“I think we've put the main meal off long enough. It's time for some dinner,” Tabitha declared. Elizabeth followed the old woman into the kitchen to help serve everyone the first course.

“So, Jackie,” Richard began as he laid a napkin in his lap. “How has school been going? Making any friends?”

“School's fine. I have a few friends I've made.” Jackie was stuck by how unusual this sort of thing was for her. Exchanging pleasantries with guests? Dressing formally for dinner? With a great amount of difficulty she overcame the sudden urge to do something unexpected; curse, burp loudly, pull out a cigarette and smoke.

“It's always nice to have a few friends in a new place. Tabitha tells us you lived in New York before this. That must have been exciting,” Richard pressed.

“Maybe a little too exciting,” Jackie answered in a surprisingly pleasant tone. She hated people prying into her past but there was an odd thrill that went along with this deceptively prim and proper ‘young lady’ she was pretending to be. Before Richard could continue delving into Jackie's other life the women emerged from the kitchen with a giant bowl of salad. The rabbi prayed over their meal once everyone had their serving. Jackie was surprised by how much the grownups teased one another, the borderline inappropriate jokes they told, the way they griped about the town and its problems, the school, the police. Somehow they never quite breached the topic of the dead and disappearing children. Stanley was seated beside her and as the grownups became engrossed in talking about grown up things he again pressed the issue of Henry.

“What happened down in the Barrens with you and the Bowers gang?”

Eyeing the adults Jackie answered in a biting whisper. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“Did you beat him up?”

“Sort of, but,”

“Stanley,” Elizabeth suddenly interjected. “Why don't you tell us about that science project you've been working so hard on?”

After that there wasn't much of a chance for Stanley and Jackie to speak. Questions from the adults kept interrupting everyone of Stanley’s attempts to pester Jackie with his hushed questions.

 

By the time dinner was over and everyone had returned to the living room Jackie had quite forgotten the boy waiting for her in her room, waiting to get his ‘favor’, whatever that would be. It wasn't until she heard a rather loud crash that it occurred to her Patrick was still in the house.

“What on earth was that?” Tabitha made as if to go upstairs to investigate but sat quickly back down as Jackie sprang up.

“It's my cat.” Not the best excuse, and she was speaking unusually loud, but it was all she could come up with in the moment. Anyway, it wasn't wholly untrue. There was a stray cat she'd been keeping an eye on. A few times it had come just inside but never very far. Although in actuality it had been a few days since she'd seen it wandering by for food.

Tabitha seemed irritated. “You didn't tell me you were keeping a cat. Is it a stay? Have you been feeding it?”

“Yes. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I was afraid you wouldn't let me keep it. I'm going to go check on him, I'll be right back. Please excuse me.” Without waiting for a response Jackie turned and sped up the stairs, gritting her teeth in preparation for whatever she was going to find. Breathing deeply she laid her fingers across the door handle, pausing a beat before swinging it open. Patrick was sprawled across her bed, belt unbuckled, pants unbuttoned with the fly down to reveal his black briefs. One hand rested leisurely beneath his head while the other was tucked into his pants. His eyes were closed, as though he were napping.

 _He's lucky I don't have a fucking baseball bat_ , she fumed, outraged to find him making himself so comfortable in her bed. _I'll have to wash the fucking sheets._

A smile picked at his lips as he heard her enter. He spoke to her without opening his eyes. “Finally. I thought that dinner would never end.”

Jackie took note of the smashed mug beside the bed, which he'd obviously knocked off her nightstand in order to gain her attention from downstairs. “They're still here, _after dinner conversation_ and all that. They're expecting me back.” Her voice was dry and trite. She was so beyond sick of having to deal with Patrick she felt ready to grab a shard of the mug and stab it into his stomach.

“So make up some excuse. Tell them you have homework.” Beginning to stroke himself over his underwear he met her furious gaze with a smile, both salacious and superior. “Baby I got _needs_ . And _you_ got a debt to pay.”

“Debt? _Debt?_ ” Jackie's outraged indignation was somewhere between a yell and a laugh. “You _stole_ something of mine and blackmailed me to get it back. I don't owe you shit, except maybe a good beating.”

“Whatever you're into, sugar tits.”

At that perverted nickname any semblance of togetherness froze. Leaping forward she grabbed a shard of the mug before straddling Patrick. His right hand was pinned between his crotch and her bottom. She restrained his free hand with her own, holding the glass fragment close to his throat. Very close. Tightening her thighs against his sides wasn't enough to keep him from trying to wriggle free but a warning press of the shard was enough to discourage further struggling. At first his anger flared but in a few seconds a smirk was beginning to cross his lips. With a light press Jackie cut a gentle mark across the skin of his neck. “None of that. No smiling, no more perverted comments, no more ‘ _sugar tits_ ’. I have had _enough_ .” She paused a breath, waiting to see if he'd respond. When nothing was forthcoming she went on. “This is gonna end. I don't want you to talk to me, I don't want to see you, and I definitely don't want to see you anywhere near my house. _Ever_. Now what's going to happen is I'm going to let you up, you're going to go out that window and you're going to leave me the fuck alone for the rest of your shitty life.” Springing off him Jackie held the piece of mug pointed at him, following him until he had climbed onto the roof and began making his way down the tree. The whole time his face was an expressionless mask. Somehow Jackie found this strangely unnerving. Locking the window behind her she let out a long sigh. When she went to pick up the remaining pieces of the mug she found her hands were shaking. The palm which had held the makeshift knife was cut up. Drops of blood marked and smeared the remnants of the cup as she carried it downstairs. When her aunt saw her bleeding hand she rushed over, ushering Jackie into the kitchen to throw the glass away before cleaning and bandaging her nieces palm.

The rest of the night was uneventful. The Uris’s stayed for another half hour before leaving. But all through the conversation, even after the guests had left, while she was washing up for bed, and as she lay down to sleep Jackie couldn't shake the feeling that she had only exacerbated her feud with Patrick. No matter how hard she tried to shake it something inside told her that things were only going to get worse from here on in. Far, far worse.


	28. More Than You Wanted to Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mystery upon mystery, and never a real answer.

Blackness surrounded Jackie. Her bed was there, the sheets a mess, having been kicked off at some point in her sleep. But wasn't she still asleep? Holding a hand up to her face she wiggled her fingers. Sometimes when you're dreaming you believe yourself to be awake. But when you wake up, when you're truly awake, there is no doubt in your mind that you are actually conscious. That's how Jackie felt, certain she was in her wakeful mind despite the chasm of blackness on all sides of the four poster bed. Dipping her toes over the side she retracted them quickly as they met frigid water. With a deep breath she tried again, watching the blackness ripple underfoot. But there was less than an inch of water before she touched something solid beneath. Tentatively her left foot followed the right, stretching down until it met with whatever floor there was in this peculiar landscape. Once she was standing she took a step. And another, and another after that. She walked until she could no longer see her bed by looking over her shoulder at the way she'd come, leaving an ever widening trail of rippling water in her wake. After an indeterminate amount of time she ceased her endless stride. At the same moment her legs stilled a wind began to blow against her, causing her hair to flutter and whip at her back. As a point of light appeared and grew larger in the distance she realized she was moving forward, as if some invisible conveyer belt were ushering her towards that distant spot of light. Brighter and brighter, closer and closer it came until Jackie was forced to shield her eyes against its brilliance. Without warning the wind ceased and she knew whatever force had been propelling her forward had stopped.

The light dimmed, or perhaps her eyes adjusted to it. Lowering her arms reservedly Jackie took in the sight before her. An enormous structure stood towering above her, some sort of dome, the rooftop hanging over the side of a nearly flat base. A sort of calm horror dawned as she realized what the thing was.

‘A shell’ she wheezed, barely audible.

 _The Turtle_.

She waited, wondering if the great beast would emerge. But all was quiet. Unsure what else to do Jackie was half way turned, intending to walk back to her bed, if she could even find it again, when a deafening sound filled the void, so cacophonous her entire body vibrated with the force of it. Falling to the ground she clasped her hands desperately against her ears but the sound had already stopped. Opening her eyes she stood slowly, wondering from whence the sound had originated. For a few minutes she sat there, keeping her eyes on the turtle, wondering if some other great creature was wandering about. Getting to her feet she ran back towards the shell, tumbling in a heap beside it, so close she was almost touching it. The thought of some other enormous creature wandering round the blackness was frightening enough to keep her anchored to the turtle. She felt if there _were_ some other beast, gigantic or otherwise, staying close to the shell would probably be safest. Her thoughts became quiet as she listened to the silence around her. It felt as if she were waiting but she had no idea what for. Then suddenly the noise again pierced her ear drums. It sounded so close. But then again the sound was so consuming it seemed to be coming from every direction, imaginable and unimaginable. Arms wrapped around her legs she rested her head against her knees, rocking a little to comfort herself. She felt as if she were drifting off, to a sleep within a sleep, when the noise shook her a third time. As it died away Jackie laughed.

She began to laugh more and more, louder and louder, her own mirth impossibly loud. Soon she was so wracked with joyful hysterics she toppled over on her side. Tears streamed down her face, dripping from her cheek to mix with the mysterious water that covered the floor of the dark landscape. Fighting to catch her breath she righted herself, sitting back on her bottom as her laughter started to peter off. For a fourth time the immeasurable sound rocked the emptiness around her and that got her laughter going all over again. The turtle was _snoring_. It was such a wondrous realization to Jackie. Even as she thought it slightly odd that the whole thing was so funny to her she continued her gasping guffaws, which renewed in their vigor every time another snore emanated from the animal. After what felt like hours, and after her stomach ached terribly from the strain of the chuckling, she finally stopped, though the smile remained draped beautifully over her features. Standing she lay a hand against the shell, perhaps as some sign of appreciation for the brief joy the creature had offered her in its deep slumber. As her finger connected with the hard armor something echoed around her head. A thought, a whisper, a warning, an unexpected bit of knowledge.

 

 

_You………… were not supposed to be._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_You were a strand that came from nowhere and nothing._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Your existence is neither a mistake nor a design. You simply became._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_With your beginning came a whole other start, another set of circumstances… another ending to a story already told._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Because of this you have the power of change. To change and be changed and to change others._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_The worst is yet to come._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Jackie had no idea where the voice, the whisper, the echo, came from, only that it was not the turtle speaking.

 _Perhaps it was never the turtle speaking to me_ … she pondered. But that was too much. It was all too much for her human mind to bear. Sudden nausea overcame her, vomit poured from her mouth and when it ceased she fell backwards, down through the darkness, falling, falling,

             falling… falling…. falling…

     f

       a

          l

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              i

                n

                   g

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jackie woke with a start, an odd taste in her mouth, neck stiff. She had that peculiar feeling she had dreamt something, only she couldn't remember what it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so late. I've had a lot going on recently, emotionally, with my job, with school, and I've been feeling so overwhelmed. And to be honest I'm not as excited about this story as I was in the beginning so I'm struggling to be creative and make it good. But I just want you to know I'm determined to finish it! It may just take a while to do that. :p Thanks for your patience and thank you to everyone still reading.


	29. Family Diner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackie feels the weight of a dream barely remembered but finds unexpected solice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally another update. I'm sorry it took so long. Also, I changed some things in chapters 22 & 23\. Jackie originally encountered a Santa monster thing in the sewers but overall I knew that felt wrong and created an unnecessary side story. The thing It turns into now makes much more sense for Jackie and her trauma.

Jackie was, generally speaking, a pretty good cook, especially when it came to breakfast. But when she woke in the early afternoon she was off somehow. Distracted would be an understatement. The eggs were runny, the bacon burned black, the toast inedible, but even if she had taken the normal care she did in preparing her food it wouldn't have mattered. Her breakfast tasted of nothing. Everything around her seemed disconnected. Moving her hands felt odd, as if she were far away, viewing them through a long tunnel. Something was just… wrong. Jackie had experienced depression many times before. Despair, yes. Deep fear, yes. Discontentment that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once? Certainly. But this feeling, if that was even the right word, wasn't really any of those. It was a creeping, aching sense of… nothing. The depression, fear and discontentment were there, but each was buried far down under a vast, insurmountable summit of just… nothing. 

After taking a few bites of her haphazardly prepared breakfast, she found the task of chewing to be far too tedious. Food left lying on the table, pans and dishes still covered in grease, Jackie dragged her disjointed body out the door, no destination in mind. It was Saturday, uncharacteristically warm for the latening season, which meant people were out mowing lawns, children were playing on porches and in backyards or riding by on bikes. None of this quiet, gentle pleasantness reached Jackie. She wasn't there, not really. A disturbing thought, a memory of the visions from her dream of the night before briefly surfaced in her mind, just long enough to mystify and upset her before disappearing. Trying to recall them after that was like attempting to grab a fistful of water. No matter how hard she tried they escaped her searching grip. 

Jackie was so absorbed in her own hopeless, infuriating ponderance that at first she didn't notice the four boys slowing their bikes in the road beside her. One of them called out a few times but to no avail. In a final effort to gain her attention he took a pencil out from his back pocket, whipping it at Jackie's head. A light  _ whap _ vibrated the air as it hit her neck. 

Touching a hand to the now red spot on her skin Jackie turned to glare daggers at the thrower. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Her voice was hoarse, coated in irritation. 

Jackie's severe expression cautioned Stan, Eddie, and Bill to be wary, but Richie replied nonchalantly in a nasally, indiscernible celebrity impression. “My girl, you looked so down me and my companions here thought you might like a bit of company.”

Eyes still narrowed, her brow continuing to crease in unhappy lines, Jackie opened her mouth to tell them to fuck off but somehow that wasn't what came out. “What makes you think I'd want  _ your  _ company?”

Pushing his enormous spectacles up against the bridge of his nose, Richie surveyed his friends. “Well I have no idea why you'd want to hang out with these losers but,” he paused, trying to lean smoothly against his bike, now supported by the kick-stand. “all the ladies are dying to hang out with a  _ real _ man like me.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

This was enough to coax a grudging smile out of Jackie's doleful countenance. Somehow that miffed her. She didn't particularly want to be cheered up. “I don't feel like playing pretend with a bunch of snot-nosed little brats, so why don't you all just piss off?”

“I told you she wouldn't want to hang out with us,” Eddie mumbled as they pedaled away. The sounds of their conversation and laughter floated back to Jackie and she instantly regretted turning them down. 

_ They're just a bunch of dumb kids _ , she told herself. But she didn't believe it. For the first time that morning she began to feel re-connected with reality, even if it was seemingly only due to regret at declining their offer. Somehow not going with them felt wrong, made her feel she was losing out. They were getting farther and farther away, their features becoming vague shapes in the distance. Before she quite knew what she was doing Jackie started running after them, leaving behind her pride and calling their attention. “Wait!” None of them turned. “Wait!” Jackie yelled again, louder this time, not caring who heard, not caring if she looked ridiculous sprinting down the road. One of them did turn now, Stan, who alerted the others. All stopped, puzzled, waiting for her to catch up. “I want,” she began, but she had to stop to catch her breath. “I changed my mind. I want to hang out with you guys.”

Seeming somewhat surprised all four of them looked pleased nonetheless. 

“M-m-mmm-my bikes the bih-bih-biggest, you can r-ride on the pegs if you w-want.”

“Thanks Bill.” Jackie stood behind him, noticing how disproportionate the bike was in comparison. Her heart thudded as he pushed off the ground, the two-wheeler wobbling precariously. Just when Jackie was sure they were going to topple it evened out and Bill began pedaling harder. 

“Hi-ho Silver, away!” he cried in triumph, sending a sort of child-like thrill through Jackie. As they sped down the street the wind blew her long hair in a stream behind her, sometimes whipping against her face, getting more and more tangled as they rode, but she didn't mind. 

Richie turned back after about five minutes of riding and nodded to their left at a row of houses. “Let's take a short cut.” 

Hopping their bikes up over the curb they cut between two houses, bouncing up and down over the uneven grass. A man stood from his back porch to yell at the children riding over his freshly mowed yard but before he had even taken a few steps they were already out of his sight. 

“Where are you guys headed anyway?” Jackie inquired as they turned onto Mall Road. 

“The Barrens,” Eddie answered eagerly. “We're building a rock fort.”

Before Jackie could ask anymore about their plans a rusty, dull olive colored car pulled up beside them. Logan leaned out the window as he drove, bemusement on his face. “What in the hell are you doing?” The smile crept further over his mouth the longer he looked at them. 

Flipping her hair Jackie replied matter-of-factly, as if this were a normal thing for her. “This is the hip new way to travel, didn't you know?”

Rubbing his chin Logan continued grinning. “Sure, sure. Ah, and I see you're with Tozier. Not trying to steal my girl, are ya?” he asked, looking pointedly at Richie. 

Richie smiled, talking like Mugsy. “Listen here, you dirty rat, I told you never to show your face in these parts again!”

“Your girl?” Jackie raised an eyebrow at Logan, trying to hide the smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

“Yeah,  _ my _ girl.”

“Don't I get a say in this?”

Logan considered Jackie for a moment. “Mmmmm… No.”

“Where are you headed anyway?” 

“To the diner. You want to come?” Logan’s dimples deepened as he smiled. 

“Oh, I get a choice now?”

“My God,” Richie interjected. “Get a room already.”

Patting Bill on the shoulder Jackie jumped off the bike. “Thanks for the ride, I'll see you guys around.”

“You’re just gonna ditch us?” Eddie questioned, stopping his bicycle as Jackie climbed in beside Logan

“Uh, sorry,” she faltered. “I didn't think you guys would mind.”

Logan hesitated then glanced at the four boys. “You want to come? Burgers and fries on me.” Each of them quickly and enthusiastically agreed. “Okay, I'll see you guys there.”

As they sped off, the boys pedaling furiously behind them, Jackie looked at him quizzically. “Look at Mr. Money Bags over here. Are you really going to pay for all of us?”

“Who said I was going to pay for you?” Jackie looked unamused and Logan shrugged. “I came into a little extra cash recently. And I used to babysit the Tozier kid so we're old buddies. I know his friends from around town. And I can't help but feel bad for that Bill kid, y’know?”

“Why do you feel bad for him?” 

Shocked, Logan glanced over. “You didn't know? His… his little brother was killed last spring by that psycho that's been running around. Ripped his arm off.”

Jackie stomach squirmed as her imagination conjured up the scene: a maniac in a long dirty trench coat severing a young boys arm. She wasn't sure why but she imagined the scene in the rain and the boy with a yellow rain slicker. “Oh my God… don’t tell me Bill was the one who found him.”

“No, no. I don't remember the name of the guy who found Georgie. This… goes without saying but don't mention anything about his brother, no questions, no…”

“I'm not an idiot, Logan.” Jackie paused a moment before going on, speaking in a low, quiet tone. “Trust me, I know what it's like for Bill.”

“... Right… I'm sorry.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the car for a few minutes before Jackie broke it. “So when's our next show?”

Clearing his throat Logan turned into the Judy’s Diner parking lot. “We're hoping to score a show at a local bar, Trenton’s working on it now. Sort of a goodbye present before he moves. We might actually get paid in more than beers for once.”

“Right, okay,” Jackie answered absently. 

The four boys arrived not long after Jackie and Logan found a booth to fit six people. Eddie, Richie and Bill crowded the two older kids in, followed shortly after by Stan who had been chaining his bike to the bike rack outside. There was hardly a chance for anyone to get a word across to anyone else but that didn't stop them all from talking at the same time. It was loud, it was obnoxious, people were casting them irritated glances, and Jackie loved it. Anyone could see that Richie simply adored Logan, seeming to try even harder than usual to get a laugh from him, which wasn't too difficult. Eddie apparently worshipped Logan as well, evidenced by the constant fighting between him and Tozier for Logan’s attention. Stanley had taken a napkin and was showing Jackie and Bill how to make a swan out of it, cracking jokes here and there. His dry humor caused Jackie to burst out laughing several times over. Bill was just recounting the time a goose chased him through the park to Jackie and Stan, with the yells of Eddie and Richie trying to outdo each other in front of Logan creating background noise, when the waitress finally came over, which was enough to briefly settle everyone down. The boys hadn't looked over the menu much. Nearly everyone in Derry was well acquainted with the Judy's Menu. As Jackie continued to peer over various items to decide what she wanted Logan ordered for her. Normally something like that would drive her nuts but all Logan had to do was smile his dimpled smile at her and she didn't care anymore. 

By the time the food was being brought out they'd fallen back into their unnecessarily boisterous exchange but when the waitress began handing out the plates of food they all somehow managed to get louder. The server came over a few times to warn them the other guests were getting irritated but she always told them with a wink and a smile. Even after their plates had nothing but crumbs and scraps of lettuce, and after the bill was paid, they stayed talking with each other, now at a slightly more reasonable volume. 

Finally Logan glanced at his beaten up watch. “Two o’ clock already, jeez. Well, sorry boys but Jackie and I have band practice.”

Richie perked up. “Can we come watch?”

“Please, please, please?” Eddie chimed in.

Bill and Stan looked hopefully at Logan. 

He couldn't help but let a grin creep over his face, as if he'd been hoping they would ask. “Ahh, alright, I can't say no to you losers. But you'll have to ride over there; I obviously can't fit you all in my car. We're practicing in my garage. Richie knows how to get there.”

They all began hastily removing themselves from the booth, running out the door to their bikes. All expect Stan, who tidied up the table a bit, making sure to thank Logan for paying before trotting out to his friends. 

“What?” Logan said when he noticed the way Jackie was looking at him. 

With a playful smirk she shrugged. “Must be nice having a couple little worshippers like that.”

“Yeah, I guess, but I much prefer my hot, female groupies.”

Jackie gave him a shove at that as they exited, both laughing. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Patrick never felt as alive as he did while around Jackie. Something about her invigorated his dull world, coloring his otherwise Grey existence with flecks of pure red. 

Red for rage and red for lust.

After the way she'd kissed him in the school hall, the day he'd returned Watership Down to her, he had actually convinced himself getting more from her in her room would be easy. She had seemed to enjoy it, she'd been the one who initiated it. He had assumed she wanted more. He had been sorely mistaken. The evidence of his mistake was sliced across his skin where an ugly scab was still healing from when Jackie had separated skin from skin with a sliver of a broken mug. The day following the unfortunate outcome of his break-in Patrick had restlessly paced around his room, working out how exactly to turn the situation back in his favor. Giving the book back to her right away had been a mistake, he knew that now, although it was too late. Jackie had taken to locking all the windows and doors whenever she left, usually even when she was home. Several extra locking mechanisms had been installed onto her balcony doors, with the help of her new boy toy Logan, and he was certain all her books were hidden and well beyond his reach at this point. She'd stashed her guitar somewhere else as well; he wasn't sure where. He could probably find out if he wanted to but stealing from Jackie and striking up a bargain wasn't the way to go anymore. This time he had a different little trick to torment her with. Once again Patrick sat down on his mattress, once again he took out the camcorder, stolen from the school's AV club, and once again he watched the footage. It had been precarious to rig it at just the right angle to see down through the slots of his locker but in the end the camera had provided the perfect view of he and Jackie sucking face. He hadn't yet decided between trying to hold the footage over Jackie's head as leverage and just showing it to Logan and Jackie's friends to see what would happen, but either way… it was going to be fun. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! If you find any mistakes, a word that doesn't make sense or if something is missing, let me know. I don't always catch that stuff so pointing it out is appreciated!


	30. The Breaking of the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes there is peace in vulnerability

“And that one there is Scruffy, the rabbit.”

“Where?”

“C’mon Burke, use your imagination.” Logan motioned with his hand, pointing to what seemed like totally random stars to Jackie. “See, right there's the little tail, then one big long ear sticking out, a little face and a big, fat, crooked belly.”

She raised an eyebrow as she scooted closer to Logan on the roof, wrapping an arm around his torso. “Oh, yeah, I see it now.”

Tucking his arm under her head and pulling her closer he cast her a skeptical glance. “No you don't.”

“I don't. I really, really don't,” she giggled. 

Sighing deeply Logan grazed his hand up and down Jackie's back. “You're hopeless.”

“Mmm,” Jackie agreed. 

“What do you see in the stars?”

Lifting her head slightly Jackie gazed carefully into the sky, examining, thinking, searching. For the second time that day she was briefly reminded of the dream she'd had last night in some vague way. Brief, confusing images flashed in her mind's eye before popping back into the far reaches of her subconscious, leaving an empty, frustrated feeling in their wake. “I don't really see the stars as much as the blackness around them.”

Logan was silent for a long time after that. Jackie began wondering if he had thought this was stupid or if she had spoiled the mood but Logan’s deep voice, vibrating against her head as it laid on his chest, interrupted these thoughts. “What do you see between the stars?”

Pausing again to think Jackie considered this. “I see rivers, running all through the sky, reaching to every last corner of the universe. They connect everything.”

Silence filled between them once again before Logan broke it. “What happened to your parents?”

With a painful slowness Jackie dragged herself up to a sitting position which Logan was quick to mimic, although he remained quiet, staring at her with an expression both fearful and intensely curious. “They died.” 

Her voice was so lifeless and devoid of emotion it sent a shiver down Logan’s spine but he wasn't ready to give up. He knew, had known for some time, that Jackie needed someone to talk to, someone to help her break open the floodgates that she'd kept carefully guarded for so long. “How old were you? How… did it happen?”

Logan thought he might shrivel up and die for the vastly disquieting look Jackie gave him. There was so much going on behind those eyes, enough, he thought, for Jackie to drown in, but still she kept it in, kept silent. Logan dared not even move; he hardly even blinked. When Jackie actually did begin to speak he couldn't help but give a little start. “They died in a house fire when I was six.” She paused, the air filled with the heaviness of the storm that meteorologists had predicted, that the dark storm clouds spanning the horizon promised to bring. “I could hear them screaming and pounding on their bedroom door. I jumped out the window, hit my head on the patio bricks. I was in a coma for about a week afterwards. All that was left to have of my parents assets was thrown away on booze by my uncle. He was my guardian after they died. He abused me for five years until one day, when he was coming after me, I grabbed a knife from the kitchen and told him if he didn't stop I'd kill him. I'm not sure if he didn't believe me or if he thought he could over power me but he lunged at me and…” Jackie avoided Logan’s eyes as she went on. “I stabbed him through the neck. I called the police. When they brought me to the station for questioning I told them what had been going on since I'd been with my uncle and then got thrown into the foster system. I was in and out of homes for years. No one knew how to handle me. I was a troublemaker, if you can imagine,” she scoffed sarcastically “and I never found a family who really cared about me anyway. I was the kind of girl who skipped school, I ripped apart books, smoked in the bathrooms, threw things at teachers. I was the kind of girl people fucked in dirty clubs and under the bleachers. People avoided me like the plague and that was how I liked it. A few years ago I found some friends and quieted down a little. I stole and did some pretty messed up things but I wasn't such a fucking nightmare. Eventually my social worker figured out I had a great aunt here. I guess there was something about a misreported death and bad record keeping that claimed her as legally dead until a few months ago. She said she'd take me in and… here I am.” Now her eyes returned to lock with Logan’s. “Are you satisfied now? Is that what you wanted to hear?” The last phrase was, unlike everything else she'd said, a little choked and uneven. She looked as though she were expecting Logan to tell her to leave and never come back, to stay away from him and his family. 

With a strange sort of determination Logan pulled Jackie tightly against him. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It's okay. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

Jackie was about to say something but instead of words only gasping sobs choked out from her lips. Bitter, salty tears poured down her face, soaking into Logan’s shirt. Using Logan’s torso to muffle her wails against the cool hush of night Jackie cried long and hard. As she felt Logan’s tears drip onto her own shirt she cried even harder, gasping for air between grievous sobs. Nearly half an hour passed until finally Jackie's weeping grew lower, muted by exhaustion. Once Logan was certain she was soundly asleep he gently lifted her. Slowly and carefully he shifted the both of them through his bedroom window, laying her down across his bed before removing her boots. She woke partially then, kicking her jeans off before pulling Logan in behind her, holding his arms as they encircled her. As she once again fell into sleep Jackie felt the relief of that cleansing tempest of tears, and she thought at that moment that she had never been more content or more peaceful in all her life. 

Some hours later, she had no idea how much later, Jackie woke suddenly. Feeling Logan still spooning her she smiled and was about to go back to sleep when she sat up abruptly. Some small figure was standing in the doorway, silhouette outlined by dim moonlight. Without taking her squinting eyes off the figure Jackie shook Logan awake. 

“Mmmmm… wh… what?” His eyes were still closed so Jackie pinched his arm, hard. “What?” He sat up now, the covers falling off him as he did. “Oh,” he said, spying the figure in his doorway. “What's up buddy?”

“I had a nightmare,” said the figure in a small, unnerved voice.” I wanted to sleep with you.”

“Well,” Logan began, looking awkwardly to Jackie. “Why don't you go and sleep with mom?”

“Her door is locked,” Logan’s younger brother whined. 

“What about Jennifer?”

“Please, Logan.” His sibling was practically hysterical now, shifting from foot to foot. 

“It's okay.” Jackie turned to him, placing a swift kiss on his forehead before grabbing her pants from the floor and slipping into them under the covers. 

“Jackie,” he began but she bent down to kiss his lips, stopping whatever he had been going to say. 

With a huge, genuine, and very sleepy smile she winked at him. “I'll see you tomorrow tiger.” The second she was off the bed Logan’s brother sprinted to take her place, pulling the covers right up to his eyes. 

“Goodnight, Jackie,” Logan said as she turned in the doorway to look at him one last time. 

“G’night,” his little brother squeaked, his voice muffled by the covers. 

“Goodnight you two,” she whispered back, grinning from ear to ear. The door clicked shut behind her and she carefully made her way down the steps to the front door, breathing in the chilly night air deeply before skipping down the steps and beginning to walk home. Something about the night's tranquillity, the solitude of walking through the empty streets after her time with Logan felt so comforting, as if the world around her was her own,as if the moon shone just for her in these dark hours when everyone else was fast asleep. Lightning bugs swirled around the dimness, blinking in and out of existence. Cautiously Jackie caught one between her palms, peeking at it through her fingers only to realize she'd actually caught two. When she opened her hands their spindly legs tickled her skin as they crawled to the edge of her finger before flying off together, their blinking lights in perfect unison as they steadily grew farther and farther away. A random, out of key tune hummed somewhere in the back of her throat kept time to her jounty pace as she rounded Brewster Street. While crossing the Penobscot River the wind began to pick up, growing to a howl, bending the trees at her back with menacing creaks. Pace quickening her attitude slowly shifted to unease. For several minutes she fought the urge to look over her shoulder but eventually the hairs standing on end at the base of her neck convinced her to glance at the way she'd just come. Nothing, only leaves stirring over the path. Not running just yet she sped up to a sort of awkward trot, distant thunder rumbling above in the turbulent skies. 

_ I think someone's watching me _ , a voice inside whispered. 

_ Don't be stupid. It's late and you're tired. There's no one else here, _ another retorted. But she didn't believe it. Unable to help it Jackie turned round a second time. Only now there was something, way back at the other end of the street. A figure, indiscernible, stood just beyond the light of a lamp. That was more than enough for Jackie. Adrenaline pumping hard she sprinted towards Canal Street, quickly running its length before speeding over the Main Street Bridge. By the time she was crossing Strawford Park her lungs ached and every leg muscle burned. Her pace slowed somewhat but she pushed on, ignoring the stabbing pain of the side sticker working away under her ribs. Utterly out of breath she reached Tabitha's porch, key already out, hurriedly jamming it into the lock and turning. Once it was bolted behind her Jackie peered through the front window, panting heavily. Waves of rain began falling, followed quickly by thunder and bright flashes of lightning. After a particularly vibrant flash Jackie felt her blood run still with fear. Someone was standing in the neighbors yard across the street. Close enough she almost thought she could make out whose face it was staring at her house. When another flash illuminated the night he was gone. Or, at least, Jackie couldn't see him any more. 

_ Great _ , she thought dejectedly.  _ First Patrick _ ,  _ now Henry. I sure know how to piss off the wrong people. _

Several minutes passed and Jackie remained at the window, waiting to see if he'd appear again. But he didn't. Eventually she slunk upstairs to bed, but not before thoroughly checking all doors and windows were locked up tight. Her sleep was uneasy, disturbed by dreams of shadowy figures watching from a distance. 

  
  
  



	31. Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry comes out of his daze

At almost the same moment Jackie had begun sobbing in Logan’s arms Henry sat bolt upright in bed, waking from a nap that had lasted through the afternoon. Sleeping had become as commonplace for him as his newfound apathy, a way to dull his mind of the thoughts rushing through it. But now adrenaline ran rampant inside him, enough to cleanse away the moroseness that had been permeating his life. As his lethargic indifference burned away a sort of euphoric anger washed over him, as familiar and comfortable as an old friend. Anything was better than the helpless, quiet despair that had overcome him in the weeks following his experience of Jackie's memories. 

_ Jackie _ . 

The very thought of her got his insides boiling. Where this sudden resurgence had come from, why it had come, he didn't know, nor did he care. Jackie had never properly paid for what she'd done to them. To him. She probably still felt safe and unafraid of them after Henry's lack of response. But Henry would put a stop to that. 

_ Jackie's suffered enough _ , some small, muted part of him whispered. 

_ She's about to suffer a whole lot more _ , something else replied. Something that didn't seem quite a part of him. A shiver ran up and down his spine but he ignored it, instead throwing on a t-shirt, pants and boots. His father would be working late tonight and would likely get himself good and drunk long before any thought of checking up on Henry’s whereabouts crossed his mind. He clattered down the stairwell, seething at his own recent despondence, hating the way he had behaved, hating his lack of control. But he was back now. His temporary, pathetic lack of action was finished, and if he had to enact ever greater misery on the people around him to remind them who he was then that was fine with him, just fine.

Slamming the door he set off at a quick walk, his stride searingly resolute. No real plan had begun forming yet but this seemed inconsequential. The most important thing at that point was finding Jackie. He'd seek her out and when he found her he'd make sure she was paid back for everything she'd done to him and then some.  _ A few days in the hospital might do her fuckin attitude some good.  _ Whatever dissociative episode Henry had just experienced it seemed to be over. The ecstasy of his anger overwhelmed him, spurring him into a run as he headed to Jackie's house, not caring it would likely be hours before Jackie would leave and allow him the opportunity to catch her somewhere deserted. He'd wait outside for her all night if that's what it took, stalk her all through the day. But he came to a dead stop as he saw a figure emerge from a nearby house. To his great surprise he saw it was exactly the person he was in pursuit of, trotting out of Logan’s.  _ Fucking slut _ , his mind accused.  _ What a dirty fuckin slut _ . She had no idea he was behind her. The wind covered his steps well enough. Moreover Jackie appeared lost in her own little world. This was more perfect than he could have hoped, maybe luck was on his side. For once. 

But as he followed behind the sick grin he wore began to fade. A nauseating sensation was worming its way into his head, into his heart, nesting there despite his volcanic anger. He kept catching glimpses of her face, and her expression was so unlike anything he had seen before it was almost as though he was looking at a different person. It was joy, giddy and pure. This barely seemed like the mouthy bitch he was used to dealing with, the asshole he was prepared to beat into a pulp. His rage stuttered. Resolution wavering Henry permitted the gap between them to widen. His churning emotions were giving him whiplash. The air around him seemed as if it were trying to match his inner turmoil; massive bursts of torrential winds rushed through Derry, bending trees and lashing at houses. But as the wild weather grew wilder still, Jackie's carefree expression faded slowly. He saw panic replacing it, clearly growing more potent as the wind picked up. Thunder roared overhead. Henry had just enough sense to leap behind a bush in someone's yard as Jackie's head slowly turned. Had she seen him? If she did it hadn't changed anything. She merely pulled her jacket tighter around herself and continued down the bridge. But just as she was halfway across it she again looked back. Henry knew she saw him because she immediately broke into a run. Instinct kicking in; he tore after her. Somehow she was out running him. Maybe it was just the adrenaline. Maybe it was because Henry hadn't been eating much over the past weeks. By the time she slammed her door closed he was a good way behind her, becoming uncharacteristically winded. Almost right after the door rattled shut rain began pelting down from the sky, water stinging his skin as the clouds flung it down with adamant ferocity. He wasn't about to pursue her now. She'd probably locked the doors anyway. Lighting began streaking down the sky, reaching electric fingers to tangle in the earth. As they did he drew ever closer, nails digging into his skin as he balled his hands into fists. He planted himself across the street in the neighbor’s yard, staring at the house, face twisted contemptuously. Aside from the flashes of lightning darkness obscured the world. Jackie was somewhere beyond the rain dripping down his face, just beyond the torrential downpour and heavy blackness in front of him. A monstrous stretch of lightening pierced the sky and he could see her there, peering from between the shades. There had been recognition in those brief seconds, recognition and, he thought, just a hint of unease. With the thick darkness once again casting itself over the street he headed towards the back of her house. He didn't want to go home. He'd hide behind her house among the trees and wait until morning. He was determined not to let her slip through his fingers this time. Hunching down he squatted beneath a bush, the dirt already devolving into squelching mud under him while shivers began coursing over his whole body, setting his teeth to chattering. But that was just fine. The thought of beating Jackie to a pulp was all he needed to keep him going. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Patrick had an uncanny ability to tread silently. Even in a casual walk his step was naturally quiet. His mother had often been surprised to find him in the room, unaware of his presence until his movement caught the corner of her eye. However when he put his mind to being stealthy a cat could barely have surpassed his light, agile stride. Thus, Henry, crouched half frozen in the woods behind Jackie's aunt's house, his ears filled with a good deal of frigid rainwater, failed to hear Patrick creeping up just a few yards behind and to the right of him. Keeping his stare fixedly on the house he did not even notice when Patrick entered his peripheral vision. Having seen Henry hunched, partly buried, in a pile of mud, the tall, dark haired boy made his way curiously over. 

“What the hell are you doing, Bowers?” Patrick purred in his silkest voice, one eyebrow raised with bemused surprise. 

Henry toppled over, marking more of his already filthy clothing in the muck around him, then turned to glare at Patrick. His eyes were red and puffy, dark circles creating sagging bags under them. Patrick would bet his favorite lighter Henry hadn't slept all night. He kept his jaws clenched together, as though to keep his teeth from clattering against each other. But he couldn't stop the rest of his body from viciously shaking with the cold. As red as his eyes and nose were, the rest of his skin looked utterly drained of color. 

“W-w-w-what the f-f-fuck do y-o-o-ou want-t-t-t?” As Henry spoke he was unable to stop the chattering. 

“You sound like stuttering Bill. I was just coming to pay our little Jackie a visit. I see you had the same idea.” Henry had no reply to this, other than to turn his withering gaze back onto Jackie's backyard. Patrick continued, unperturbed. “Anyway, if you want to give Jackie a little payback for whatever it was that happened in the Barrens,” Henry flinched. “there are probably better ways than lurking around back here.”

“Like what?” 

“Like, I dunno, catching her back down in the Barrens where no one can hear her scream and…” As he trailed off Henry turned away from the house to look into Patrick's burning, pitiless eyes. “get her back. In one way or another.” He let the suggestion hang in the air. 

Henry, dense as he was, didn't quite grasp what Patrick was hinting at, but he liked the odds of two on one. If they planned, if they were careful, if they caught her by surprise, this time, Henry was  _ certain _ , they could really beat the tar out of her. “If Belch is there to help us along with Vic there's no way she could get away.”

Patrick rolled his eyes. Vic liked to torment kids and girls with them but he wouldn't be willing to get as violent as Patrick wanted to. And though Belch followed Henry with a dog-like devotion, he wasn't sure he would tolerate what he himself was planning to do to Jackie. Henry was the only person he felt could be coerced into allowing it. Maybe he'd even join in, who knew. Only time would tell. “I think it might be better if just you and I went after her. Those two don't like to get their hands too dirty.”

“But Belch-”

Patrick was quick to cut him off. “It has to just be the two of  _ us _ , Henry,” he whispered imploringly. Henry nodded. It was almost too easy, Bowers seemed suddenly far too easy to mold to his plan. But in the end it didn't really matter. Henry had come out of whatever daze he was in, apparently even crazier than before. And that was just fine with Patrick. “For now let's get back to my house and get you cleaned up. You're fucking filthy.”

 

Patrick's mother looked startled as her son and his damp friend appeared in her kitchen. 

She opened her mouth to speak but Patrick began explaining before she could get out a single syllable. “He got locked out of his house for the night because his dad was working late so he slept outside.”

“In the rain?” His mother inquired, horrified. 

Patrick shrugged. “He said he didn't want to bother anyone.”

Mrs. Hockstetter rushed out of the entry way and into the laundry room, grabbing a towel before rushing back to the boys. “Here,” she said, draping it over Henry's shoulders. “Patrick take him up to the bathroom right now. He can take a nice hot shower and get changed into some of your clothes. I'll make something warm for you to eat, dear.” She was addressing Henry with a reassuring hand on his arm but he barely seemed to notice. He was taking in the house around him, somewhat transfixed. Patrick didn't let his friends come over to his house. He didn't even like when they came to ring his doorbell but apparently today was an exception. Whatever he had imagined Patrick's house would look like it wasn't this. Suddenly he was aware of the comforting arm on his shoulder but just as he was preparing to shake it off Patrick was propelling him up the stairs. 

“My mom is blissfully unaware of the sort of company I entertain so you can keep any unpleasantness to yourself,” he hissed in Henry’s ear. 

Henry was about to turn and tell Patrick, in unnecessarily loud tones, just exactly where he could shove this demand and to ask him who the hell he thought he was but before he quite got the chance he had been shoved in the bathroom and the door was slammed in his face. Stripping down he quickly stepped into the shower, turning the knob and relaxing somewhat in the scathing rush of burning water now running down him. Spending barely any time washing away the grime of his uncomfortable night in the woods Henry stepped out only two minutes after entering, drying off with the towel he'd been provided. Leaving his clothes and tying the towel round his waist he glanced up and down the hallway. Loud vibrations of a stereo blaring heavy metal coming for the door at the end of the hall indicated which room was Patrick's. But Henry was curious. He opened the next door down, peering in. It was obviously a study of some kind, probably belonging to Mr. Hockstetter. The door across from that was a cluttered closet. Uninterested in its contents Henry closed it again, making for the next door down instead. Just as he was glimpsing Patrick's parent's bedroom, he felt rather than heard a presence behind him. Whirling around he found Patrick right in front of him, so close their noses were almost touching. 

“My room's down there.” Patrick nodded his head back in the direction he'd come. Shoving him aside Henry walked ahead of him, slamming Patrick's own bedroom door in his face before rifling through the drawers to find clothes that suited him. He'd just pulled up the pants, his torso still shirtless, when Patrick sauntered in. 

“What the fuck Hockstetter, get out!”

“This is my room, first of all. If you wanted privacy you should have used the bathroom. Second, you don't have anything I haven't seen before so you can just calm down.”

Resigned and irritated Henry pulled on the shirt he'd chosen in a huff. Once he was dressed he began to feel unsure of what exactly to do. Patrick was sprawled across the bed, engrossed in a dirty magazine. Deciding to take advantage of Patrick's inattention Henry began poking around the room, curious. There wasn't much to look at, nothing shocking or unexpected, which was, perhaps, in itself unexpected. He didn't know exactly what he thought he might find, maybe unexplained red stains on the rugs or bedsheets, knives, a gun perhaps laying underneath a dirty pile of clothes. With nothing else to do Henry began to grow more and more irritated. “Well?”

Patrick didn't even bother looking up. “Well what?”

“I thought we were going to do something about Jackie.”

Closing the magazine Patrick looked up. “You're not exactly at your peak right now. You need some food, water, probably a good long nap. You can eat whatever my mom is making you then go home. We'll figure something out later when you're not such a fucking mess.”

“Fine,” Henry gritted through clenched teeth. 

 

A half hour later Henry was almost home. He'd eat some more. Rest. And when he was up to scratch, he and Patrick would deal with Jackie. “Bitch is finally gonna get what's coming to her.” 


	32. Sinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events conspire against Jackie in her weakest moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been crazy long since I updated. To anyone still reading, I love you, and I really hope you enjoy.

Jackie had long ago learned to never ignore her gut. Her instincts weren't always right, but that didn't matter. When intuition spoke to her it was rarely about anything good. Most people who had gone through trauma experienced this, she supposed. The greater the trauma, the stronger the compulsion to follow it. Even at the expense of those around you, even at the expense of your own happiness or potential happiness. It was exactly this mentality that had protected her for so long. Self-preservation was an art to Jackie, mastered at an early age. 

_ … Almost _ mastered. There was one area she had never fully exacted her will of guardedness on. When it came to romantic interests there were a few who had managed to beat down some of her walls. But she had still kept them from getting too close, from knowing too much. 

Until Logan. 

Jackie began to soften the moment she arrived in Derry. Having a place to call home, an aunt who cared for her, friends who pursued her company, friends who weren't addicts, didn't steal from her, who asked for nothing in return- all of these emotional luxuries had begun chipping away at her walls, leaving bareness. Instinct shouted warnings every step of the way but, for whatever reason, it hadn't been enough to drown out her desire to finally have the things she craved so desperately. Relief came with the new vulnerability. Yet that more than anything else screeched and begged for an end to her softening. It'd been loud enough to nearly resurrect what was being stripped from her. Nearly. So close. Almost. 

But not quite. 

So she had grown closer to Logan. Trusted him. Adored him. Fallen in love with him. Like the relentless drum of ocean water against a rock her sharp-edges were smoothed. But Jackie didn't know how to be both vulnerable and strong. Unfortunately for her, events had come together, conspired against her in such a way as to bring two of her greatest enemies right to her in what was, at that point, her most defenseless time. 

  
  


“And I want those papers in by this time next week. You can use the last few minutes of class to,” the school bell rung out the days end, cutting Mrs. Hartfield off mid-sentence. “Ah, well,” she amended awkwardly. “have a good Tuesday, everyone.”

Jackie rose with languid irritation. She was in no rush to get anywhere. Logan would be working late, Moira and Jenn were going home with Cindy Miller for a sleepover Jackie had little interest in. She was last to leave the classroom. A slow pace brought her to her locker only after practically everyone else had cleared out. Shoving books inside she closed the door slowly, its click unusually loud in the now empty hall. Once Jackie's shuffle brought her to the front doors she breathed deeply, wondering what the hell she was going to do tonight. A few straggling drivers were speeding out of the lot, the roar of their engines quickly fading and leaving the air uncomfortably still. Unzipping her pack she removed and donned the portable cassette player. Submerged in the music of Iron Maiden the songs blurred her focus on the surrounding world, the way the sky appears hazy and indistinct to a swimmer peering at it through a veil of water. Lost in endless floating melodies her feet went on autopilot. Just as her right foot planted down on the sidewalk at the edge of the school yard, she caught the attention of Henry Bowers and Patrick Hockstetter. Both were leaning on the building’s wall, as still and silent as the red bricks their backs rested on. Hungry eyes followed her for a few steps. Suddenly both moved in perfect unison, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Now. Now Jackie would pay. 

Patrick took an odd delight in Jackie's headphones, a little loose on her head and bobbing slightly at each step, blasting her ears full of crashing music, music loud enough to ensure she couldn't hear them creeping up behind her. They were like a black ribbon sitting on her head. A perfect ribbon for a perfect little present. Maybe Henry was too dull to hear the sounds of Derry tearing off wrapping paper and twisting Jackie up inside it just for them but Patrick did. Patrick knew. Not everything, but enough. Her weakening had been whispered to him, inspired him, moved him to Henry, to where they both were right now. They were going to break her until she bled and screamed and begged for it to stop and for an end to the torment. And then he'd grant her wish. All this Patrick knew. What he did not know, nor could he ever understand, was the true nature of the change that had taken place in Henry after his strange encounter with Jackie in the Barrens. Similarly he failed to see the way Jackie bent and manipulated the world around her. With his own giddiness clouding his brain Patrick lacked the ability to grasp Henry's true motivations. In this Henry mirrored Patrick, having no understanding of what drove his actions. Not yet, in any case. 

 

No one seemed to notice the boys following only 20 feet behind an unsuspecting girl. Not as they went down Mall Road or through Bassey Park, not as they followed Jackie past the shops on Canal Street and then onto Kansas. Nobody walking past looked aside from their route, no driver gave so much as a second glance to what should have seemed so obviously suspicious. Nobody cared. Not in Derry. 

 

By the time Jackie reached the train yards her tape had been switched to side b. Slayer, Van Halen and Vixen populated this track. The appeal of the train yards was in their offering of a new part of the town to explore and, Jackie figured, a place to be alone. As she'd hoped it was run down; seemingly abandoned. Jackie's eyes cast around, darting from empty and rusted train carriages to piles of litter stirring in the wind. Pace speeding to a trot she kept a sharp look on a train car with the door slightly ajar. A great heave brought it squeaking, sliding, grudgingly open. Sunlight filtered in but deteriorated rapidly, enabling darkness to remain in the corners of the metal rectangle. Piss and stale alcohol wafted towards Jackie, enough to make her cough and step back. The presence of homeless residents in the old trains during night time hours was easily guessed. Hands stuck way down in her pockets she meandered towards another train car. This one was open all the way, at least on one side. Gracelessly clambering in Jackie sat for a while on the edge of the cargo hold, legs swinging back and forth in numb rhythm. Taking off her backpack Jackie lay it down behind her. A lumpy pillow was better than none.

“I'm reachin' for you, gettin' so close, but you're always a step away   
I wanna touch you 'n give my love, what is it gonna take…” Jackie’s singing wasn’t especially good but it wasn't bad either. Not beautiful enough for a stage but pretty enough to be pleasant to hear. Eyes closed against the sun’s warming rays Jackie began to slip into someplace between sleep and wakefulness. Comfortable. Content. Oblivious. Suddenly three things happened all at once. Jackie's song ended, the headphones were torn off, and her legs held together while duct tape snaked around them. Shock muted her as she flailed her way to an upright position. Her hand twisted in the greasy locks of the person sliding duct tape round her limbs; Patrick. Of course. But before she had a chance to do anything else Henry flung his weight against her. Knocked backward with a resounding thud she somehow managed to maintain her grasp on Patrick's hair, pulling him with her. Sitting atop Jackie's torso Henry's fists pounded relentlessly, blood and bruises mangling soft, pretty features to pulp as he beat the fight out of her. She released Patrick. Tongue running over his teeth a grin stretched Patrick's mouth; he peered over Henry's shoulder, reveling in Jackie's rapid deterioration. At first she'd struggled, at least attempted to free herself. Now she was a rag doll, limp and helpless. Ready to be prodded and played with. A weak groan escaped through teeth coated in blood. 

“Sorry,” Patrick cupped his ear as though hard of hearing. “Didn't quite catch that babe.” Biting off another piece of duct tape Patrick placed the long strip across her mouth, running his fingers over its surface to ensure it stuck onto Jackie’s face, covered in slippery blood as it was.

Henry seemed lost in shades of red hot hatred, not fully aware of what was going on around him. Flipping Jackie over he ripped the tape from Patrick’s hands, binding their victim’s wrist’s together tightly enough to restrict circulation. Henry stood, panting, as if waiting for instructions from Patrick. An unusual thing for Henry to do, but what did Patrick care? He found he preferred the Henry easily molded to his plans over a Henry that had his own. 

Somehow managing to roll herself onto her back once again Jackie found she couldn't see them particularly well through her swollen lids. They blurred and swam like dying fish drifting on the ocean’s waves. Patrick strode towards her but she reared her legs and kicked, hitting his gut with a force he didn't suspect she still possessed. He stumbled back a step, biting his lip in a sadistic smile. 

“You're gonna pay for that.” His whisper was menacingly soft, dripping with deadly poison. Shoving aside the next kick of Jackie's bound legs Patrick climbed atop her as Henry had, sitting back on her thighs. A few tense seconds passed. He did nothing. Then without warning his fists began slamming into Jackie's abdomen. Grunts and moans of rage and pain escaped from somewhere back in her throat. But even rage, normally her ruling trait in situations such as this, paled in comparison to her fear. It had been so long since anyone had had the power, the means, the gall to inspire fear in Jackie Burke. The very fact she was afraid inspired yet more terror, becoming a vicious cycle, mounting dread upon dread until she found herself no longer able to fight the terrible cyclone. It dragged her to its depths and, combined with the pain wrought on her body, she lost consciousness. 

 

Pale, fading light of a descending sun fell over Jackie’s closed lids, wakening her from her stupor. Opening her eyes brought on very little difference in what she could see. Two skits, though clear, were at she had. Her eyelids were still bruised and swollen, their throbbing bringing on a headache. A murmur of voices reached her then, sounding very far away, and she was about to ignore them and attempt to go back into her comforting state of numbness when all memories of what had happened,  _ hours ago? Minutes ago? _ came flooding through her consciousness. Scrambling to a kneeling position served a fresh, brutal reminder of just how hurt she was, as well as how bound her limbs were. The murmuring ceased as Henry and Patrick, standing about ten feet away, turned their gazes towards her. Lustful gazes that thirsted for her body, but it was more than that. Something in their eyes told her they thirsted for her blood. She could see that even through her hindered vision. Maybe even her life. Brows knitted together Jackie turned an impressive and haughty glare on them. 

“What’s that look for?” Patrick purred. “Not pleased about being beaten?”

Henry stayed where he was as Patrick crept forward, ripping the tape off her mouth. But Jackie didn’t give either of them the satisfaction of hearing her scream for help. She knew no one would hear her call, no matter how loudly or pleadingly. Not all the way out in the heart of the barrens. Jackie’s teeth ground together as Patrick ran a gentle finger down her jaw line. “I’ll get you to scream before morning. You can trust me on that. It’s almost dark and we’re going to have all night with you. How does that sound?”

“You two must think quite a lot of yourselves if you think you can go all night,” Jackie replied. But she couldn’t keep her voice from shaking. Patrick’s sick grin, a grin she had seen far too many times before, split his lips, revealing yellowing teeth. Shame colored her face red. She was afraid and he knew it. 

Patrick stood, beginning to pace languid circles around his captive, reveling in his victory. His third time around he knelt behind her, brushing tangled hair full of dirt and bits of leaves away to reveal her ear. Leaning forward he gripped her shoulder and placed his lips against it. “Scream for me.” The whisper held a sick amalgamation of hatred and desire.

“Go to hell.” Again her voice shook. Fear jumbled the words and dropped them out of her mouth in an unimpressive heap. 

Moving his hand from her shoulder to the nape of her neck he rested his fingers around her throat; gentle but threatening. “Scream for me,” he whispered again. This time Jackie didn’t respond. She knew what was going to happen, what they were going to do to her. There had been so many times before boys and men had wanted to take her against her will. She could always see it in their eyes and she had always escaped them. More than escape them, she would make them regret ever clapping eyes on her. But now…

Patrick’s grip around her neck tightened, cutting off the flow of her thoughts before he released,roughly shoving her with his boot as he stood. Jackie quickly lost her balance, falling face first into the dirt. The light of the day was almost completely gone now. Patrick was in front of her now. Gripping the hair on the back of her head he yanked her back up to a kneeling position. Hissing at the pain Jackie attempted to squirm out of his grasp, which only brought on more pain. 

“I like you like this,” Patrick cooed. “On your knees. It suits you.”

A gruff, humorless chuckle emanated from the back of Jackie’s throat. “Be careful where you stick your pecker, Hockstetter, or it might get bitten off.” 

His grin widened. Speaking slowly, voice dripping with sarcasm, he pretended as if this had only just occurred to him. “That’s a  _ good  _ point.” Keeping eye contact with Jackie he half turned his head to call over his shoulder. “Gimme your knife, Henry.”

Like an obedient dog Henry trotted over to obey. Eyes trained on Jackie Patrick held out his hand for the knife. Henry complied yet again. With a menacing click the knife sprang forth an Patrick ran its cool edge along her jawline, careful not to cut. Not yet. It ended at her chin, which he used the blade to tilt up. 

“Don't move,” he whispered. To emphasize his point he allowed the knife to slice her skin ever so finely. “Don't. Move.” She knew better than to test him but the urge to pull away almost overpowered her as he moved forward, leaning his face so close to hers all his features blurred in the darkness. His tongue ran gingerly along her lips, just for a second, before he pressed his own against hers, kissing her gently. Henry was surprised but not as surprised as Patrick himself was. Something in the back of his head was confused. This hadn't been what he'd wanted to do, not really. This hadn't been in his plans for the night at all but the voracious, sick blood lust that had filled him before had dissipated, leaving behind only lust. More surprising still was that even the lust felt tamer. But tame for Patrick wasn't really tame at all. Jackie was in danger. She knew it. And so did Henry. 

Patrick continued to caress Jackie's stiff lips with his own, poking, prodding, sucking. Finally he pulled away, lowering Henry's knife as he did. “That wasn't so bad…” he purred. “was it?”

Jackie held back tears with difficulty, mouth clamped firmly shut, eyes hard and furious. 

“No biting remarks? No scathing wit? I'm disappointed.”

“Me too,” Jackie's voice still shook but her words felt a little stronger. “You kiss like a sloppy drunk.”

“Disappointed in my performance, huh? Want another go?” His self-satisfied smirk brought forth some of Jackie's fury but it was still drowning in her fear. 

“I'd sooner kiss a cactus.”

Patrick looked around, exaggerated confusion spread over his features. “It doesn't look like you have much choice in the matter.” he shrugged. “And anyway,” Appearing nonchalant he began to focus on picking dirt out from under his fingers with the knife. “I'm tired of kissing. I think it's time to move onto the main events.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was the ocean imagery subtle enough for ya? :p


	33. Red Hot Sling Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Help can come from the unlikeliest places, if only you're willing to ask for it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, remember that cat? Remember that cat Jackie fed a million chapters ago? Remember that tailess cat?

 

Jackie felt her blood run fast and hot, burning through her veins like magma.

_This can't be real, this can't be real, can't be real, can't be, can't be…_

The thought rattled in her head over and over, a mantra, a useless attempt to disconnect herself from the situation.

 _Please God,_ she begged. _Please no. My life is enough of a shit show I can't take this. I'd rather die, please, please please…_

Jackie was suddenly aware of Patrick's gaze. His perverted delight at her obvious fear tied her stomach in even more knots. She wondered if she might soon throw up under the pressure of her dread.

“There it is,” he stated, eyebrow quirked as if he were slightly surprised at her expression. “That look. When everything else is stripped away and there's only fear…” He trailed off, savoring the moment. “Henry,” His call was abrupt, cutting uneasily through the tense silence. Henry seemed startled at the sound of his name, looking as though his thoughts were somewhere else entirely, as if he had nothing at all to do with what was going on or what was about to happen. “bring me the duct tape.” Henry did as he told and Patrick ripped off a generous strip. Before plastering it over Jackie's mouth he cut and ripped off a sizeable portion of the bottom of her shirt, wadding it up in a ball and stuffing it into her mouth. Dropping to his knees in front of her he once again held the knife to her throat. “Henry and I really did a number on that pretty face of yours but I gotta admit, I kinda like it.” He licked his teeth in a wide grin. “You know the rules, babe.” His voice was a whispering giggle and though the smile remained on his face his eyes grew abruptly serious. “Don't move.”

Patrick waited to see if she'd obey. When she remained still he tucked a finger into her jeans, letting it glide back and forth along the line of her panties. Without warning his clammy hand reached down to cup her through her underwear, cold fingers sending a shiver down her spine as they rubbed small circles atop the fabric. The tears came then. Jackie knew they would come no matter what. All she could do was keep the sobs deep down in her chest. Before long her throat burned with the strain of holding them back. Patrick traced a slow line up her abdomen then grabbed at her shirt, shoving it up over her chest. Head bowed he ran his tongue over the tops of her breasts while his other hand slid under her bra, his nails scraping against her right nipple. Sobs continued to build in her throat but she swallowed them like bad medicine. Slowly, almost carefully, Patrick's tongue worked its way up to her neck with no more tact than a slobbering dog. And wasn't that exactly what he was? A wolf in man's clothing? And she, little red, had fallen right into his arms. He was at the tip of her jawline now, sucking on the soft skin of her earlobe. His left hand continued pawing at her breast, squeezing and pinching. She felt the flat end of the blade press harder against her skin as Patrick leaned forward. Jackie tried to hold her ground, to at least stay upright but soon the point was aimed at her throat, urging her back. A sudden shove and Patrick had her on the ground. At first she was confused as Patrick reached behind her to cut through the tape binding her wrists but understood as he positioned her arms above her head and began sloppily taping them back together. He leaned back on her thighs, straddling her as he surveyed his victim. With all the delicate grace of a professional barber Patrick lifted the knife to slide up along Jackie's cheek, catching the tears there. Smirking derisively he licked the salty drips off the blade, not even seeming to care about the nick it left on his own tongue. Holding his tongue out between his teeth he bit down, squeezing out more blood before enough came out to drip down across Jackie. It was enough to make her gag. She couldn't take it anymore. And she knew what she was about to try wouldn't work in the end, knew she couldn't get away, knew that Patrick still had the knife but she refused to continue in obedient silence. Quick as a rabbit she lifted her tied firsts and slammed them down on Patrick's head, then pulled them back in to slam straight up into his nose, bucking to the side as she did so in a lame attempt to throw him off. But he only lurched the the right, knees digging tighter into her sides. Feeling the wet, red gore that dripped from his nose Patrick surveyed it with resigned irritation, as if he were an adult vexed by a child's tantrum. Still looking at his fingers, now spotted with his own blood, he pressed the knife against her chest, cutting a long red slit across the skin, at least a 16th of an inch deep. Jackie screamed through the gag, head pounding furiously with pain. The red trickled slowly out from the gash, as if reluctant to flow away from the warmth of Jackie's body and into the coolness of night.

Leaning down so he was almost flat on top of her Patrick whispered against the side of her head. “Told you I'd make you scream. But stay with me. We're not done yet. Not even close.”

She tried with avid, desperate, anguished urgency to squirm away, to get out from under him at least a little. Of course it was no use. But Patrick stood suddenly, yanking Jackie up by the hair until she managed to reposition herself into a kneeling stance.

“Put your arms against your chest.” Jackie shook her head, trying to glare up at him through the tears. Gripping the back of her head Patrick cut a long line down through the first slash he'd made, creating a sick sort of cross that ended at her belly button. Smothered sobs echoed from somewhere behind the tape as she laid her arms against her chest. A sudden image flashed through her mind while Patrick wound the tape around her torso, pinning her upper limbs against her. The image was from a stained glass window in a church. Jackie had never been inside that or any other church but the intricate beauty of those enormous, multi-colored windows had always impressed her, and the irony of a church spending what she was sure must of been a large sum of money on pretty decorations instead of feeding the hungry or whatever it was churches were supposed to do always amused her. On the particular stained window her mind was calling up there had been a kneeling woman, hands clasped against her chest, eyes upturned to heaven with the words _Et orationis fidelium_ written underneath. Et orationis fidelium: the faithful prayer. She had looked up its meaning in a library. Only that one phrase out of all the Latin expressions there were to be found on all the windows on all those New York churches. She must look something like that woman now, kneeling in the woods, her arms tight against her chest.

 _Please_ , she begged. _Please God, or whoever or whatever is out there, if you can hear me… send me help. Send me an angel, a meteor, I don't care just please save me from this nightmare. Please. Please…_

Patrick had finished encircling Jackie with tape as the echoes of her last plea died in her mind. “Next time you try something like that I'll cut one of your tits off and feed it to the local dogs, understand sweetheart?” When Jackie failed to make any kind of acknowledgement of the warning Patrick grasped her chin and tilted her head back, forcing eye contact. “I know we haven't spent _that_ much time together but I would hope by now you understand me well enough to recognize that's no idle threat. So I'm going to ask you again: Do you understand?”

A slight jerk of her head was all she could manage but Patrick seemed satisfied. Bending down he began to unbutton her jeans. Then a sudden sound caught Jackie's attention, a quiet cry of protest. She had nearly forgotten about Henry, standing there in the background, as silent and unmoving as a statue, nothing but a spectator of the freak show unfolding before him. But now he was moving slowly towards them and Jackie thought she saw tears gleaming in his eyes. He moved further into the light and now she was sure of it. Tracks of water trailed down his face, washing away some of the filth marking his skin.

“Stop.” His whisper was barely audible. Patrick certainly didn't hear it, consumed as he was with undoing the button on Jackie's pants one-handed. He raised his voice. “Sto… ” Henry was struck silent as something came whizzing from somewhere in the woods. _Thwap_ , right on his temple. “What the fuck?” Though it must have hurt Henry seemed more confused than anything.

Patrick froze, turning his head. “What?” Henry didn't have time to answer before another shot flew toward them, marking Patrick's neck with a red welt. Shoving Jackie to the ground he stood, pointing Henry's switchblade in the direction he thought the shot had come from. Jackie thought she could catch the faintest shuffle of shoes crunching down on dry leaves somewhere in the distance, slowly circling round the clearing they were in. “Who's there?” No answer. “Why don't you come out and show yourself? Come out and play.” Patrick's self-satisfied air was quickly being overrun by anger, his aura rapidly growing fiercer and more terrifying than ever. His silhouette stood out to Jackie against the light of the moon now shining behind him, black as death itself. _Thwap_. The next shot appeared to miss its target, striking a tree right next to Patrick. With a leap and a bound he was off, furiously tearing after whoever had thrown the shot. The second Patrick disappeared into the darkness Henry ran to Jackie, fumbling in his pockets for something. Before long he produced a small little pocket knife. Of course he had a spare. Hands shaking he began cutting away at the tape coiled round her. During the slow but sure progress Jackie glared at him in dumb, angry confusion. Why was he only now helping? If he had planned on freeing her why had he been a part of this in the first place? Henry seemed to sense the stab of her thoughts and ardently avoided meeting her gaze and seemed too afraid to remove the tape holding her mouth shut. The second her arms and hands were fully freed she tore the remainder of cut, sticky tape away from her back and sides and pounced on Henry, knocking him on his back. His resistance was half hearted at best. He practically gave her the pocket knife. Aiming it at him she removed the strip across her mouth, pulling out the gag and breathing deeply.

“ _What the fuck_?!” She knew Patrick couldn't be far off but she could barely keep from screaming. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you that fucking sick? You were just gonna sit there and let him do whatever he fucking wanted?” She paused to take a breath. Clenching her teeth she moved the knife as close as she could get it to his neck without the blade actually touching his skin. “I should end your miserable life right now.”

Sobs broke out then, more and more tears spilling down Henry's dirty face as he cried pathetically. “I'm…” A soft _hicc_ interrupted him. “ _I'm so sorry._ ”

Jackie wanted to stay angry. She didn't want to feel sorry for the pathetic excuse of a human in front of her. But she had already been crying that night and now the tears came easily. “Fuck you,” she whispered, voice uneven as she wept. Sitting back she sliced through the tape binding her legs and stood, pulling her shirt back down to cover herself. Henry tentatively followed suit, standing slightly hunched, like a child in fear of being beaten. Jackie's mind flashed back to her vision of Henry being whipped with a belt by his father. For a moment she thought perhaps they weren't so different. Maybe Henry deserved a bit of sympathy. Hadn't he himself been through enough? But the more she thought about it the less she agreed with that line of thinking. Though their trauma was similar the way it shaped them couldn't be more different. Jackie might be an asshole but she didn't bully others. She didn't sit idly by while the strong punished and took advantage of the weak. And never in a hundred million years would she have allowed anyone like Patrick to torture someone if she could do anything about it, nevermind _helping him_ do it. She wasn't going to empathize with this sick little boy in front of her. He didn't deserve her pity.

“Stay the fuck away from me Henry.” Her voice was calm yet threatening.

Henry nodded vigorously, sniffling a little bit. “I'm sor…”

“Don't,” she warned. “Don't you _fucking_ **_dare_ **. Now get the fuck out of here.” Henry didn't need to be told a second time. He took off in the opposite direction from the way Patrick had left and the night quickly swallowed him, leaving nothing but quiet sounds of the forest in his wake. Jackie knew Patrick wouldn't stay gone for long. And she was right. She'd only taken three steps before his tell tale footfalls were making their way back to the clearing, pace regular. Tiptoeing, moving silently as she could in her rush, she hid behind the first big tree she came across, back pressed flat against it. Patrick's steps paused, then shuffled as he looked around, bending to pick the wads of silvery tape strewn over the ground.

“You've gotta be fucking kidding me. You've gotta be fucKING _KIDDING ME_!” Patrick's rage sent hot flashes of terror through Jackie. He began walking again, heading in the same direction she herself had gone. He was close now, each step drawing him nearer and nearer to her hiding spot. Jackie's head pounded as her lungs screamed for more than hushed breaths of air. But she dared not give in, afraid of the slightest sound giving her away.

“I know you're out there…” Patrick cooed. “You didn't get very far, did you?”

_Damnit Damnit damn damn damn fuck fucking shit fuck_

“That's okay. I don't mind playing hide and seek.” His voice trailed off. He was on the other side of her tree now, a few more paces and he'd pass right next to her. But suddenly he broke into a trot. He ran past but stopped abruptly, his back to her, not more than fifteen feet away. Jackie thought she could feel her face turning purple as she held her breath. “Too bad you're not a very good runner…” Without warning he whipped around and ran straight for her, knife raised and ready to strike, whether to kill or incapacitate she had no idea, and she didn't intend to find out. Spinning on her heel Jackie's legs pumped with adrenaline. In a matter of slim seconds she ran back the way she'd come, through the clearing and into the thick of the woods Patrick had just come through. She had no idea where she was in the Barrens or how far in, no idea if she was running to civilization or further entangling herself in its depths, but on she ran. Patrick was closing in.

_Too quick, I can't. I can't outrun him. Fuck him fuck me fuck these goddamn woods!_

His hand brushed against the back of her shirt, soft as a moth’s landing. Some last little reserve of adrenaline kicked in and she spurred herself faster, lungs ready to burst, limbs bloody and sore enough to drive her mad. She wouldn't be able to outstrip him much longer, adrenaline or not. Then a brief thought flashed through her mind. What was it about the ground in front of her that looked so odd? A second later her question was answered as she plummeted downwards, turning head over heels down the steep cliff for what seemed far too long before slamming into the unforgiving ground. Patrick was too close behind to react properly and followed shortly after, beginning his descent before Jackie even reached the bottom and somehow managing to roll even farther than her. Jagged rocks poked into her ribs but her body was already so bruised and aching she hardly noticed. In what she already knew to be a pointless struggle Jackie pressed her hands into the ground, wretchedly wrestling to push herself up. She made it about an inch off the ground before her arms gave out. Useless. She could see Patrick wobbily getting to his feet some twenty yards ahead of her but she just couldn't move. Lead filled her veins, weighing her down, beckoning her into the dread comfort of giving up and letting go. Her body was all too happy to oblige but her mind still fought against the lifeless weight of her limbs.

_Get up get up get up_

Patrick was on all fours now. 

_Get up get up_

He rose slowly, his lanky body reaching its full height.

_GET UP!_

Then Jackie saw the white of Patrick's eyes shift to look at something behind her. And she heard the crunch and clatter of foot steps over rocks. A worn pair of slim brown boots stepped into view, planting themselves between her and Patrick. Jackie couldn't see past the slender, freckled calves but they looked so small compared to Patrick, who somehow seemed at least nine feet tall. The next seconds flowed by in slow motion. Patrick stepped forward and the brown shoe clad figure bent down to pick up an insignificant little pebble. There was a sound of stretching rubber then a loud _snap_ and Jackie saw the projectile scream through the air and smack directly into the middle of Patrick's forehead. The strike seemed to daze him; he stumbled back. Again the figure stooped. Another, slightly larger pebble rocketed through the air, outdoing its brother in speed and power and landing in the exact same spot. An utterly ridiculous and stupid look of confusion came over Patrick's face as he collapsed backwards. If the stones hadn't been enough to knock Patrick out the sharp rap of his head as it collided with the rocks on the forest floor certainly was. He lay there, closed eyes pointed deftly to the sky, still and quiet. The figure spun round, grasping Jackie's left upper arm and pulled. It wasn't a very strong pull but Jackie found it was all the strength she needed to help her get to her feet. Once Jackie was up one arm was put around her back to guide and steady her while the other held Jackie's left hand, which rested on an unfamiliar and tiny shoulder. Whoever the girl was she was shorter than Jackie. She couldn't decide if the stooped head of hair was a fierce, golden blonde or a sunset orange. Her head was light, dizzy, hopelessly dim and the whole, slow trek through the woods, over roots, under branches, through brambles and bushes, felt hazy and dream like. The only thing keeping her tethered to reality was the scorching pain that seemed to emanate from every corner of her body. Her head ached, her feet throbbed, her legs burned, her arms were sore, her chest heaved and collapsed, never able to get quite enough air, and the neat little slices Patrick made stung under her shirt. Every now and again there was a quiet, _C'mon_ or _You can do this._ A comforting, _We're almost there._ But the trudging was endless, seeming to stretch on and on. Then they began to ascend a steep hill and Jackie would have cried if she'd had the energy. Then, finally, when she thought she would rather lay down and die than climb another inch they reached the road.

“Oh thank God,” the girl said. “We made it.” The girl drew in a long deep breath as they stood in the pale, ominous yellow light of a street lamp. She glanced up and down the street before turning to Jackie. “Can you make it a few more blocks?” Looking at the girl's hair in the glare of the lantern light Jackie realized now it was a fiery red. But it was a soft fire, a comforting fire, if there was such a thing.

Jackie bobbed her head side to side. “Uh-uh.” Her voice was hoarse, barely audible.

At a loss the girl once again scanned up and down the street, unsure what to do. A buzzing began to fill Jackie's ears as the silence wore on until the girl's voice interrupted it. “I don't think you have a choice. If I can get you to my house I can fix you up a little, maybe call an ambulance…”

Jackie suddenly shifted. “Yougottaquarter?” The words became garbled through her thick tongue and swollen cheeks but the girl seemed to understand. Hands reaching around in her pockets she produced one from her shorts back pocket, which were far too big and held up only by a tight belt. Jackie pointed across the street to a payphone.

“Oh right,” the girl said, beginning to make her way awkwardly across the pavement. Jackie shuffled along with her, tired beyond all reason. Her wounds had been wearing her down and worsening all night but it was the rush of adrenaline and subsequent tumble down the cliff that had really done her in. When they reached the phone Jackie leaned heavily against it, giving the girl some reprieve from her weight. The girl slid the quarter into the machine, the sound of its descent into the slot uncomfortably loud in the still night. Jackie carefully tapped out the phone number on the pad, making sure she didn't miss any or press a wrong key. The line rung on the other end, waiting for an answer. It must be late but Jackie had no idea exactly how late. She only hoped he wasn't out or sleeping too heavily. Jackie's heart began to sink and just as she was wondering if the girl had another quarter someone picked up.

“This had better be really fuckin’ good.” Logan's voice was groggy and very, very annoyed. Under other circumstances Jackie would have found it funny, maybe even cute, but currently all she could think about was getting into a nice, warm, soft bed, even though that seemed like an impossible dream in the wake of her current, perpetual nightmare.

“It's Jah-khee.”

“Who?”

“ _Jah-khee._ ”

“I can't fucking understand you, whoever this is.”

A thin line of drool slipped from her mouth and she thrust the phone at the girl.

“Uh, hi, uhmm…” the girl glanced uncertainly from the phone to Jackie.

“Spit. It. Out.” Even without the receiver against her ear Jackie could hear Logan's words.

“Your friend needs help, I think she needs you to pick her up.”

Jackie nodded ascent, encouraging the girl to continue.

“Who needs me to pick them up? And who the hell is this?!”

“Jackie! She's hurt really bad, she can hardly move. You have to come pick her up.”

“Where are you?” It sounded like Logan couldn't get the words out fast enough.

“Kossuth Lane, out by Tracker Brothers Trucking.”

“I'll be there in ten minutes or less, don't move.”

The girl hung up the receiver slowly. “I guess now we wait.”

Letting herself slip down the side of the payphone Jackie landed in a slump of limbs on the ground, looking like a marionette whose strings had been severed. The girl sat down right beside her, legs criss crossed. Head tilted against the payphone behind her Jackie nearly dozed off. But a sudden, chilling curiosity caught her up, demanding answers. “How the fuck did you find me? Where did you come from?”

Grey-Green eyes turned to stare into Jackie's. “I… it's kind of a weird story, actually.” The girl turned away, a humorless chuckle leaving her mouth before she continued. “I was tossing and turning in bed, trying to fall asleep when this... this cat came in through my window. I don't know how it got up to the second story… up the fire escape, I guess?” The girl began absently fiddling with her boot laces. “Anyway it jumped right up on my chest and fixed me with this eerie stare. Then it jumped onto my dresser and knocked my slingshot off before it pranced back over to the window sill. I sat up in bed looking at it a few minutes, not really sure what to do. Then it jumped back down, stood by the slingshot and started meowing. I went over to quiet it and it hopped back to the sill. And, I don't know I just… I knew it wanted me to follow it and I knew it wanted me to bring my sling. I got dressed and followed it to the Barrens. It started to go too fast for me to keep up and while I was looking for it I heard Patrick, so I came over to investigate. I think you pretty much know the rest.”

Jackie nodded, eyebrows knit together in pensive contemplation. A thought suddenly occurred to her. “Did that cat have a tail?”

The girl seemed surprised by the question. “Actually it didn't.”

“Mmm.”

A soft blanket of comforting quiet fell between them then. Jackie felt herself just beginning to drift off to unconsciousness when a car engine startled her. As she sat up her bruised gut throbbed in protest, the cut leading down to her belly button seeming to whine along with it. But that was Logan's car, Jackie was sure. “Oh thank God, thank the fucking lord.”

Logan screeched to a stop in front of them, barely throwing the vehicle into park before half falling out the door. He was wearing sneakers but was still in his baggy pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt. Kneeling in front of Jackie he lay gentle hands on her shoulders, looking deeply and earnestly into her eyes. “What… are you… how did… ?”

Jackie cut him off. “Logan I'm so tired. Please, I just want to sleep. Please.”

Tears flooded his eyes as he looked at her before choking out an, _Okay._ Scooping her up gently as he could he carried her to the back seat of his car, the girl rushing in front of him to open the door. Even though it hurt every part of her to even be lifted she nestled her head against Logan's chest with something close to a relieved sigh. She didn't want to ever leave his arms. But he laid her down across the back seat and she suddenly felt very cold.

He motioned with his head to the passenger seat. “Hop in, I'll give you a ride.” Nodding the girl slid in, glancing back at Jackie as she buckled her seatbelt. The car rolled Jackie gently back and forth in the back seat as Logan drove, following the directions given him by the girl.

“Stop here,” she commanded abruptly. “I'll walk the rest of the way. I don't want to take the chance my dad will hear a car passing by and wake up to check on me.”

“Ah, gotcha. You sure you'll be okay the rest of the way?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Logan guffawed. “I have no idea what happened to Jackie but you obviously helped her out of something. I should be the one thanking you. I owe you _big time_. And after Jackie tells me exactly what went on tonight someone is gonna be in the fucking ground, I can promise you that. But I am forever in your debt, uh…?”

“Beverly.”

“Beverly,” Logan repeated. “The name of an angel. If I can ever pay you back you let me know. Stay safe red.”

Logan reached a hand back as he drove away, searching for some part of Jackie to hold on to. Her own hand extended to meet it, squeezing weakly but gratefully. Logan was here. Nothing else mattered because Logan was here and he was going to take care of her.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a long ass chapter but I didn't want to split it up. Hopefully it was worth the wait.


	34. All Through The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet lullabies whisper in the night. Logan takes care of Jackie.

Jackie wasn't sure which made her head hurt more, the sunlight streaming in the window of Logan's bedroom or the soreness of her jaw, which sent dull, throbbing pain up along the left side of her face. Logan was downstairs at the moment. Sounds of his rummaging in the kitchen reached her in discordant waves. She was running a fever of 102. Shivers traveled up and down her back as the ache of her bones ebbed and flowed in waves of shuddering tension. Oddly enough the fever made the pain feel distant. It hurt, she knew it did, but her body seemed far away, lost somewhere among the frenzied and confusing half-dreams that fevers bring. Sometimes she would think about Logan coming into the room, imagine the conversation they would have then become confused as she returned to a slightly more wakeful state. The line between reality and subconscious thought blurred. Seconds, minutes, hours passing were both short and incredibly long. But reality and her dreams held two constants: Logan and the pain. They were both there no matter where her mind went. Sometimes Logan would lay next to her and stroke her arm, other times he'd wipe a deliciously cool cloth across her brow, sending little waves of relief through her burning body. Sometimes the pain was sharper than her fever and she would cry out and reach out for him. Sometimes the pain dug into her mind, muttering echoes of madness as it burned through her. This persisted into the late afternoon, which was when Logan had led someone else into the room. She hadn't actually realized Logan left and was a bit surprised to see him come in through the bedroom door. Though she listened to what he and the other person said she couldn't grab hold of the meaning behind any of their words. Some while after that Logan came back with a glass of water and something in his hand. With difficulty he made her understand he had some pills she needed to take and then with even more difficulty convinced her to sit up for a moment and take them. The days rations of crackers and soup broth churned uncomfortably with the addition of the pills but Logan stroked her hair as she curled up into a ball under the sheets to fight the nausea and, not long after, the pills Logan gave her, a painkiller and Tylenol, began to spread their cool, comforting tendrils across her mind and muscles, numbing the pain and offering a mellow buzz. Logan ran his hands tenderly through her hair, braiding the long soft locks into a single train as she rode the waves of her painkiller high. When the nausea subsided she grasped the braid at its middle and whipped it around, alternating between slapping it against her arm, the bedside table, her chest, or Logan when he was sitting in the bed next to her. He seemed to find this very entertaining and they both erupted into fits of mad giggles, though her laughter was much weaker than his. But eventually the fever and drugs coaxed her into a deep sleep, full of strange and wonderful dreams that she would never again remember. 

 

“... Can't go back, we… hnnnmm, gonna catch that. It's on the… other side.” Jackie twitched in her sleep, murmuring strange, nonsensical phrases as Logan continued to stroke her hair. It was still in its braid but strands were sticking out at funny angles after all of her messing with it. Hazy moonlight trickled through his window to fall over Jackie's bruised face and Logan's heart felt tight in his chest. She looked so helpless, so unlike herself. It felt strange and perverted to see her so pale and bruised, laid low by her injuries and temperature-induced delirium. Last night when he heard that girl's voice telling him Jackie was in trouble such terror had run through him, a terror rarely felt. Fear constricted his heart and lungs, tied his stomach in knots. And when he'd seen her lying there on the sidewalk the anger was so potent he began seeing spots and had had to blink them away, will them away. His anger was so loud it drowned out the fear. But he'd shoved it aside. Jackie didn't need him angry, not then and not now. She needed him soft. Gentle. Comforting. He'd help her get through this. Nurse her wounds, keep her company, hold her hand. And then, when she was ready, he would ask her what happened. Then she would tell him who had done this to her. She would tell him who had hurt her and there would be hell and a half to pay. 

It was difficult to suppress his fury and his yearning to get his hands on Jackie's attacker but somehow he'd managed to shove it down. And it was against his better judgement that he'd taken her home instead of to the hospital but Jackie had been fiercely adamant. She didn't want the cops getting involved or word getting out about what happened to her. After he'd gotten her cleaned, bandaged and safely into bed he'd called her aunt, fearing she would be worried at Jackie's absence, especially given the recent disappearances and curfew. However no one answered, not that night and not the next morning. And then the fever began and Logan had his hands full taking care of her, getting at least some food into her system, changing bloody wrappings, trying to get the fever down and keep her pain at bay. Craig, the singer in the band and his closest friend, came through with painkillers for Jackie. He'd asked some questions when dropping the pills off about what happened but Logan could provide few answers. However what he could tell Craig was enough to rile him into anger. He'd become friends with Jackie, after all. “You call me when you find out who did this and we'll pay him a visit,” he'd instructed before leaving. 

Calvin and Craig had both quickly taken to Jackie after she'd joined their band. She had a biting wit and when she wanted to be, was captivatingly charming. Her good looks scored her a few extra points as well but it was her skill with the guitar that they truly respected. That was, in the end, what had introduced her to them in the first place and it was how she'd ended up winning them over completely. Calvin and Craig would help him punish whatever brainless sicko had done this to Jackie, that he was sure of. The two of them liked Jackie enough to feel defensive of her without any help in getting there from Logan anyway. Now it was only a matter of waiting for Jackie to be ready to tell him what happened. 

 

When Jackie awoke, it was in Logan's arms. Her head still hurt but it felt clear. Maybe a little too clear. Memories of her capture, her torture, the fear, oh God the fear… Wrapping her arms around him Jackie clung to Logan as if he were a lifeline out at stormy sea. Breathing became rapidly more difficult as the images of the previous night's horrors clawed at her, refusing to release their grip on her mind. The harder she tried not the think of them the further they sunk in. Jackie's arms were around Logan so tightly he woke with a start. 

“Jackie, what's…?”

But her tears told him she didn't want to talk, couldn't talk, not yet, she only wanted to be taken outside of herself and kept somewhere safe and warm. One arm hugged her tightly to his chest and the other rested on her head, stroking her hair as he whispered in her ear. “Hey, hey it's okay. I'm here. It's okay Jackie. It's okay.”

For a moment he was quiet but then, in a soft, steady voice, he began to sing. 

 

“ _ Sleep my child and peace attend thee, _ _   
_ _ Guardian angels God will send thee, _ _   
_ _ All through the night _ _   
_ _ Soft the drowsy hours are creeping, _ _   
_ _ Hill and dale in slumber sleeping _ _   
_ _ I my loved ones' watch am keeping, _ _   
_ _ All through the night _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Angels watching, over around thee, _ _   
_ _ Midnight slumber close surround thee, _ _   
_ _ All through the night _ _   
_ _ Soft the drowsy hours are creeping, _ _   
_ _ Hill and dale in slumber sleeping _ _   
_ _ I my loved ones' watch am keeping, _ _   
_ _ All through the night _ _   
_ _   
_ _ While the moon her watch is keeping _ _   
_ _ While the weary world is sleeping _ _   
_ _ All through the night _ _   
_ _ O'er thy spirit gently stealing _ _   
_ _ Visions of delight revealing _ _   
_ _ Breathes a pure and holy feeling _ _   
_ _ All through the night _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Angels watching ever round thee _ _   
_ _ They will of all fears disarm thee, _ _   
_ _ No forebodings should alarm thee, _ _   
_ _ They will let no peril harm thee _ _   
_ _ All through the night. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Though I roam a minstrel lonely _ _   
_ _ My true harp shall praise sing only _ _   
_ _ Love's young dream, alas, is over _ _   
_ _ Yet my strains of love shall hover _ _   
_ _ Near the presence of my lover _ _   
_ _ All through the night _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Hark, a solemn bell is ringing _ _   
_ _ Thou, my love, art heavenward winging _ _   
_ _ Home through the night _ _   
_ _ Earthly dust from off thee shaken _ _   
_ _ Soul immortal shalt thou awaken _ _   
_ _ With thy last dim journey taken _ _   
_ __ Home through the night .”

 

With each line of the song Jackie felt her mind become lighter. The soft words of Logan's melody, lovingly whispered into the air, brushed away her fears, his strong arms dispersing anguish as they held her. Everything about him was a medicine, a balm, a remedy to her torment. How had she ever lived without him? But, she supposed, she hadn't lived without him. She'd only survived. 

The last echoes of the lullaby fell from his lips and silence fell. Logan knew it was coming, knew Jackie was almost ready, but not quite. He kept absolutely silent, the air tense with what remained unspoken. Finally he felt it should be he who spoke first, he who would need to gently coax the truth from her. 

“Jackie…” he paused, gauging her reaction. She was neither tense nor calm, only waiting. “What happened to you in the Barrens?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh. This story has been going places I didn't expect it to which has required some replanning on my part. I have a few threads I'm thinking about I just have to round them out and decide which one to follow, so please bear with me.


End file.
